A Cognitive Dissonance
by GreenEyedVixen
Summary: Hermione Granger is a control freak. Can she let loose with one Draco Malfoy, her unrelenting distraction...?
1. Mind over matter

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all that is related to that realm is owned by J.K. Rowling. I am simply providing a plot. **

**A/N: This is a bit of fun for me, I have written very little of anything but am jumping on the band wagon of the ever fabulous Dramione. Hope you enjoy! **

Chapter 1

There is no substitute for the warm caress of the person you love. That is, if you happen to appreciate it. Hermione Granger was in no state of mind to linger on the importance of such things. She was drunk, needy, and had no doubts that she wanted to caress the man on the opposite side of the room. If only it were possible.

It had been too long since Hermione, an independent and successful woman, had experienced any interaction with the male species in an intimate setting, shall we say. She certainly dealt with them professionally, given her role as Director of Muggle Relations at the Ministry. But, in a state of lowered inhibitions, she was feeling rather lonely and yearned to be desired. And, the only person she could desire without acting on such fleeting emotions was her childhood enemy, turned entrepreneur extraordinaire, one Draco Malfoy. If only she wasn't such a coward in the department of personal relations. Her Gryffindor traits seemed to have washed over that aspect of her character. She needed another drink.

The function was of particular importance, being the annual Ministry hosted ball held in the ever elaborate atrium of the Ministry's headquarters. Hermione had come alone, reluctantly. She was, after all, director of her department and was here to promote, network ,and generally act the part by being seen to advocate the social activities of the Ministry. Nevertheless, her social skills were being greatly hindered by her internal conflict and she found herself grabbing another glass of champagne from the passing floating tray.

She tried her hand at small talk with the directors of other departments and her colleagues. The Minister even approached her to greet her and thank her for her launch of the magazine, _Understanding Muggles,_ and even invited her to the next meeting with the muggle Prime Minister. Yet, the whole time her eyes kept turning to the man who had captured her attention for the evening. She sculled her champagne, it made her throat tickle.

The now empty glass in her hand called for quick action. She walked over to the bar to set it down and picked up another flute. She would take it slow this time; she still had to floo home in one piece. The music progressed to a more contemporary jazz mood, and couples started to flock together for a spin on the dance floor in front of the great fountain. She hated happy couples and pretended to seem occupied with the nearby ice sculptures of unicorns raised on their hind legs flanking the entrance. It was part of the theme in promoting wizarding arts at the event. She considered the life of the ice-sculpture altruistic, unlike other forms of art; it was created to be marveled for a fleeting moment in time, awaiting its tragic ending. She sipped in admiration as the unicorns glistened like diamonds.

A hand wrapped itself around her waist, and someone drew in for a kiss on her cheek. "Hermione, I haven't seen you all night, you look exquisite," he whispered. Hermione turned her head to face the familiar warm eyes.

"Ron!" She smiled and hugged him with elation, "you're looking rather dashing yourself. Is Luna here?"

"She's catching up with some Ravenclaws. I can't believe it's been so long since I've seen you! How are you?"

"I'm good Ron, everything is going well." She figured the things that mattered were going well. She was reaching her professional goals and making a name for herself, separate from the infamous golden trio. Ron and Luna had been traveling for a year; he worked for _The Quibbler_, reporting on world Quidditch, while Luna researched unusual creatures for her book.

"Of course it is, I wouldn't expect anything less." She sipped her drink in a move to change the subject. Her head was starting to spin.

"You're coming to lunch on Sunday right? Harry will be back too. Like old times," Ron continued.

"Of course, Ron, I wouldn't miss it!" she reassured, wincing internally at the reference to 'old times' as Luna approached them.

"Hermione!" Luna gave her a warm hug. "Great to see you, love the new magazine. Who would have thought the Ministry could provide such enjoyable and useful reading material!"

"Thanks, Luna, happy to hear people are actually reading it. I'm relieved the project is up and running, finally." Her eyes were becoming harder to focus, she had to remain composed. "Ron, you have to dance with Luna, she has to show off that lovely gown. I'm just going to rush to the ladies, excuse me for a moment." She patted Ron on the shoulder, pushing him to go dance. He rolled his eyes jokingly at her demand and lovingly took Luna's arm and headed to join the other couples. Hermione's disgust at the dancing pairs did not help her current state as she tried to walk in a straight line towards the restrooms. She had to get a hold of herself, all the champagne was starting to hit her, and not lightly.

Hermione hastily made her way into one of the stalls in the ladies room, and turned to lean against the door as she shut herself in. She was feeling worse by the minute, how many did she have? She took deep breaths, her mouth felt dry, and she felt the earth spin on its axis. It was worse when she closed her eyes. She had to get home, before she couldn't control herself. Taking a deep breath as she stepped back out, keeping her head down so as not to draw the attention of the few witches seated at the vanity retouching their hair and make-up, she exited the restrooms.

She stood outside door for a moment, leaning against the wall for support, her hand over her forehead in an attempt to gain some self composure. She pushed off the wall and began to walk down the corridor back to the atrium. Few people passed by her but did not regard her state, just smiled. She tried to smile back, but she could only manage a smirk. Acknowledging others in her current state was not a priority as she concentrated on walking in such high heels. Despite her efforts, and the overbearing influene of Murphy's Law, she suddenly lost her balance, feeling her ankle twist in slow motion as she began to plummet toward the black surface of the corridor floor. She closed her eyes as she outstretched her arms in an attempt to ease her fall. But, they never made contact with the unforgiving surface as a pair of arms grabbed her from behind, pulling her back onto her feet with ease. A moment passed for her to register what had just occurred as she was being gently and safely directed onto the cold stone seat in a nearby alcove.

"That was a close call. Those shoes on this surface can cause some real damage," a deep, soothing baritone voice echoed around her, a hint of mirth present in his tone. Hermione, barely registering the man who had saved her: she was yet to look up, as she hunched over in uncontrollable dizziness. A delayed shot of pain stabbed through her leg. A groan escaped her lips.

"Are you ok?" the stranger's arm tightened around her, gesturing a response.

She shook her head, unable to string a sentence. She motioned toward her ankle, as it silently throbbed, eliciting chronic pain that surely would feel much worse had she not been in her current state. The arm around her pulled away as the stranger knelt to take a closer look.

"Looks like a sprain," he observed as he gently touched her ankle. He pulled out his wand and muttered a healing spell. Instant relief swept over her as she felt the muscles twitch around her shoe. "Best not to walk on it though, but it should be fine in a couple hours." he directed, softly tapping her ankle in a friendly gesture as he stood up and looked down at the distressed witch, yet to see her face.

Hermione, feeling obliged to acknowledge her rescuer, despite her tumultuous state, shifted her gaze from her lap as she lifted her head scanning over the person before her. She reached his face, her throat clamped, cheeks flushing in embarrassment, as she caught the ice drawn eyes of none other than Draco Malfoy staring down at her.

"Granger?" He seemed genuinely surprised as he scrutinized her features. She suddenly wished she had passed out in the toilet.

"Drunk and disorderly, that's me," she managed to respond in a barely audible tone. She played with her hands nervously. 'Get me out of here' was the only thought crossing her defeated and heightened state of embarrassment. A few drinks ago she was drooling over this man and now here he was, standing before her, having rescued the damsel in distress. How appropriate.

She heard him chuckle. "Drunk perhaps, disorderly? I doubt it. Nice shoes by the way. Think you can stand in them?" He ushered a hand to help her up. She was feeling rather dumbfounded at the gesture. Hesitantly, Hermione accepted, as he gently pulled to help her up. If only the room would stop spinning! She found herself at eye-level with the devilishly handsome man, which there appeared to be two of at this time. Her heels really were quite high, she realized.

"Thanks" she mumbled, avoiding his stare. He nodded curtly. "Think I might call it a night," she admitted. He was still holding her hand of which she was only vaguely aware. The close proximity of their faces was overwhelming to say the least.

"Don't think you're in a state to floo." His attentiveness was making her uncomfortable.

"I'm fine really, it'll be fine, really," She was making a fool of herself now. He eyed her humorously.

"Granger, don't be so embarrassed, everyone has a few too many drinks now and then. I'll go get your date to take you home." Could the situation get any worse? She pulled her hand away from his grasp and turned to move away from him.

"Really, Granger, your stubbornness is potentially harmful. Just wait a moment while I go find your partner. What's his name?" His said exasperated at her un-cooperation. It was a rare thing that someone did not cooperate with a Malfoy's request, especially one that was making an effort.

"I'm on my own," she mumbled.

"Right then, let's go to the fireplaces. Lean on my shoulder, you're not supposed to be walking on that." Accepting defeat, and the fact that this situation probably could not get any worse than it already was, unless Murphy wanted to make another appearance, she nodded and placed her arm on his shoulder as he circled his around her waist. They walked silently, Hermione limping as she leaned on Draco for support. This earned them a few glances from others as they passed through the atrium over to the few networked fireplaces near the ice-sculptures.

He directed her to stand in the fireplace, handing her the floo powder.

"You ready?" He asked. Hermione nodded.

"Granger residence," she articulated as best she could and glanced into the grey abyss focused on her as she flung the powder, green flames erupting around her. In no time she was stumbling out of her own fireplace in her apartment, collapsing on the couch in exhausted relief. Tomorrow, Hermione would exercise a cognitive dissonance to convince herself that the events of this evening had never happened. She passed out before she could plan any further.


	2. routine jungle

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all aspects related to that realm belong to J.K. Rowling. I am merely a provider of a playful plot! **

**A/N: Still focusing on Hermione's perspective and psyche but will delve into Draco in the next few chapters. :p**

Chapter 2

It wasn't until the glare of the mid-morning sun hit Hemrione's line of sight with such intensity that she was blinded as she was interrupted from her slumber. Her neck cramped, and her right arm was dead under her weight. If truth be told, she was a mess. Lifting the dead weight with her left arm she shook her limbs as pins and needles rushed through to the tips of her fingers. She looked down at her state of dress; the hemline had ridden up to her hips, the straps had fallen off her shoulders, and her hair was unruly to the point where she would need to condition for at least fifteen minutes to be able to run a comb through it. A sure sight for sore eyes she sat up, rubbing her neck, trying to turn it this way and that. only to discover she could direct her head only a fraction as she attempted to look toward the kitchen. Her mouth screamed for lubrication; a desert storm had passed through.

Kicking off her forsaken heels in frustration, her ankle was feeling rather good. She reluctantly stood up and headed into the kitchen. Water and pain killers were in order - she was in no mood to brew a hangover potion. Her head throbbed and the thought of eating anything made her want to retch as she contemplated a day in front of the couch feeling sorry for herself. Her loss of self-control last night had left her in a wretched state, physically, and emotionally, and she needed plenty of chick flicks to help repress the annoyingly crystal clear recollection of events.

First things first, a bath to snooze in as her aches were soothed. She made for the bathroom in such haste; she almost needed to detour to the toilet. It would be a long day of emotional turmoil indeed. The fist stage of self-pity lasted for about an hour but as she emerged from the bath feeling slightly improved, a rush of anger swelled through her while she changed into her 'home clothes', as she liked to call them. Hermione Granger was now so irate that she picked up the first thing she could get her hands on, sadly it was the vase her mother had given her as a house warming gift, and flung it across the room, as it broke against the wall mirror of her living room sending shards and shattered glass flying about in a state of chaos. She needed her wand.

The third stage of reflection and resolution set in as Hermione relaxed into her couch after having cleaned up and made something dry to eat. She took a bite of her raisin toast and sipped her tea in contemplation. Yes, in a moment of weakness, Hermione had felt inadequate for not being desired. Yes, she had drunk herself into a ridiculous state. Yes, she had embarrassed herself and needed help, and she had exhibited all the signs of someone weak. But, the only person centering on all these realizations was one Draco Malfoy. No one else had recognised how drunk she was, or her reason for leaving early. On face value, Hermione had acted the part of a perfectly sober and social director of Muggle Relations. She could fix this with one act: a clean sweep. If she happened to run into Malfoy, she would never acknowledge the events that had transpired. She was Hermione Granger: independent, strong, and most certainly able to take care of herself. And, upon reaching such a satisfactory accord, stage four set in. Hermione, now at ease, curled up in front of the television and commenced her DVD marathon. Bridget Jones was calling.

ooo

There was no such thing as Monday-itis in the working vocabulary of Hermione Granger. Her routine was so fixed, it could be marketed. She would wake up early, go for a jog, shower, dress, and floo into her office for an hour's work before her staff arrived, at which point she would head out for her morning coffee, leaving her secretary to take any calls. She headed to her favourite little café, it sat in a laneway behind Flourish & Botts, and was the haven for writers, literary enthusiasts and coffee connoisseurs. As per her routine, at 9:05, Hermione entered the café and took her usual seat in the chesterfield wing chair facing a small coffee table and chair opposite, shielding her from other patrons.

"Morning, Miss Granger, your espresso as usual?" the young waitress asked.

"Hi Josephine, that will be perfect. I might have a bacon and egg muffin too this morning. I'll be here a while." Hermione smiled at the young witch, before settling into her work. The next issue of _Understanding Muggles _was due for release in two weeks and she needed to organize topics and allocate tasks. Hermione was so self disciplined when it came to her work she could tune out from the hustle and bustle surrounding her and concentrate solely on the task at hand. She had mastered this skill from a young age.

"Good morning, Mr Malfoy, in a bit later today? Take a seat and someone will be over to take your order." Despite her well trained skills, Hermione's attention instantly shifted as she registered the name. An undue panic overcame her as she peaked over the back of her chair to confirm the presence of Draco Malfoy in the café. To make matters worse he was looking for a spot to sit. She turned and gulped, as she noticed the only available seat was the wing chair opposite her. Hermione hurried to pack her things, reaching down for her satchel from the side of her chair.

"Sorry to disturb you, is this seat available?" She heard the familiar baritone, sending chills down her spine. She did not want to look up, she wanted to apparate like a coward. She would exercise a polite indifference, she decided.

"No, go ahead, I'm just leaving," she straightened up with her bag, placing her things inside and standing to leave. There was no way to avoid the scrutinizing gaze of the intruder. The familiar grey eyes caught her avoiding glance and she could not help but notice a smirk creep up on those perfect lips.

"Well, hello Granger, don't rush out on my behalf. I am quite flattered you would give up the whole space for me. But, it looks like you haven't even touched your food." He was being sarcastic and she hated it. This Malfoy was far different from the one she had encountered at the ball. But, she would play along.

"I just realized I had a meeting this morning that I can't miss. Help yourself to my _untouched_ food." She remarked snidely and turned to leave, brushing past him as she moved around the coffee table.

"Nice shoes, Granger." He had to have the last word. She hesitated. But, Hermione was a strong and independent woman and would not let him remind her of her vulnerability in a drunken state.

She turned her head shooting him a dazzling smile, "Thanks," she quipped and headed to exit. She was reaching the end of the laneway to the shop front of Flourish & Botts when she heard her name being called out.

"Hey Granger, you forgot something!" Monday-itis was about to kick in for the first time.

"No, Malfoy, I believe I didn't," she retorted, not turning her head. She heard his pace quicken as he tried to catch up with her. Why could he not just leave her in peace?

"How do you know if you haven't seen it?" He had caught up and was now standing beside her, his breath heavier from his efforts and his hair lightly disheveled as the flaxen strands fell across his face. He was holding her diary: her daily planner. She must have left it on the seat as she had reached for her bag.

"It even says Hermione Granger on the front cover in silver script. Unless there is another Hermione Granger who happened to be sitting in the same spot, in the same café as you a moment ago, excuse me for just assuming." Malfoy was playing her now. Her eyes narrowed in frustration as she snatched the diary from his hands. "I believe that's twice now I've come to your assistance and you are yet to thank me."

"I didn't ask for your help Malfoy," She snapped. It was a childish response and she knew it but, he was aggravating her and she was still hungry. He shot her a glare in disbelief, the amusement disappearing from his eyes as he drew blank.

"Fine," he stated simply and began to head towards Diagon Alley. Hermione stared after him, baffled. She thought she would have to play hard to exercise control but he just gave in. What in the world had just happened? She was made to feel inferior by acting immature and it was not settling well with her. Her day would be ruined.

"Wait!" She called after him, almost involuntarily. Now she was running after him. How the tables had turned. "Malfoy, just hang on a second," she stated rather than asked.

"Didn't you have a meeting you just couldn't miss?" He had stopped and turned to face her, smirking. She ignored his acerbic remark.

"Look," she resigned, "I'm sorry for snapping, but I just want to say, thank you for going out of your way to return this," she waived her diary in gesture. She had purposely avoided mentioning the ball but she figured it was implied. She stared at him awaiting a reaction.

"You're welcome, Granger." They stood there staring at each other. It was prolonged to the point that awkwardness was setting in. "Right then, Bye." His eyes averted hers and he started to walk away, hands in pockets. He seemed unperturbed about it all.

"Bye," she responded, feeling rather stupid. He probably hadn't heard anyway. She walked away hurriedly before any further unease flooded her and headed back to the office, setting about her daily routine, pushing the unexpected interruption into the recesses of her conscience. At least she had her planner back.


	3. Round table manners

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related character belong to J.K Rowling. **

**A/N: I am getting addicted to this, and I have a stack of reading to do! Oh well! Appreciate your comments thus far! **

Chapter 3

It was Wednesday evening, and Hermione was still in her office despite the fact that her whole department had left for the day. She was preparing for the monthly meeting with the Minister the following day. She needed to present a draft for the next issue of the magazine, and to debrief the muggle memory squad about a recent accident caused by drunken wizards at a muggle nightclub. It was no wonder she had often pulled an all nighter and slept on her office couch. It didn't bother her too much though. After all, her office was her sanctuary; she thrived on her productivity, her constant learning and drive for results, and there was no doubt she was admired all the more for it.

An inter office memo unexpectedly flew into her office, landing on the pile of paperwork before her. It was unusual to receive messages at this hour. She curiously opened the note reading it out loud - it was a habit when she was alone.

_Attn: Director of Muggle Relations_

_Miss Granger, we have received a request for advertising space in your department issued magazine, 'Understanding Muggles', from a prominent conglomerate and request your attendance at our meeting on the fourth floor, Ministry Accounts Department, to commence in five minutes._

_Yours Faithfully, _

_Owen Dixon_

_Director of Project Funding _

She reluctantly headed to the fourth floor, through the glass doors of the number crunchers. She disliked their nosiness in her affairs and budget driven agenda, but she maintained her professionalism and kept her distance. Mr Dixon's door was ajar as she neared the entrance. There were a few people in the office as the conversation leaked through the opening. Hermione knocked, awaiting an invitation to enter.

"Ah, Miss Granger, do come in," Mr Dixon, a thin lipped, serious faced man of middle age motioned. She entered to see two other people seated around his discussion table and immediately knew that she was not going to like what she was about to hear.

"Hello, Mr. Dixon, this is an unusual time for meetings," She stated, eyeing his nonchalance for calling on her at this hour. He pursed his lips, standing to usher her to a seat, feeling compelled to apologise for the inconvenience although he hardly considered it necessary. Hermione moved to the table to sit only to notice the blonde mop of the one man who had caused much disruption to her state of mind lately. Draco Malfoy was staring at her, with a most obvious all knowing smirk. She sighed and sat across from him.

"Yes, yes, sorry to interrupt you after office hours but we thought we would address this before the meeting with the Minister tomorrow. Thought we should give you a heads up on the proposal which will affect your department," Mr. Dixon spoke slowly, with a thorough articulation that bordered on insulting; as if he were accommodating a learning disability or hearing difficulty. Hermione seethed at his behaviour. It did not help either that Malfoy was clicking his pen in an irritating rhythm and was sitting with one arm slung over the back of his colleague's chair, exuding such haughtiness, the air quality could suffocate a small animal. He was dressed in a sharp navy pin striped suit that only enhanced his features, and was custom tailored to fit his torso magnificently, to the point of distraction. Her peripheral vision was being overstimulated and she refocused her attention on the finance director.

"If I recall correctly, Mr Dixon, matters that have not been put on the agenda cannot be raised at the meeting, so I would have been in no such position. But, since I am here now, do enlighten me." Malfoy's clicking stopped for a moment as he eyed the exchange. Hermione turned to face him and his colleague, an attractive woman similar in age dressed in a power suit that screamed arrogance, or at the other spectrum, a superficial substitute for lack of ability.

"I'm _sure_ you know of Mr. Malfoy." She lifted an eyebrow in disdain at the introduction, as if Mr Dixon here was name dropping for self promotion. "He and his colleague, Miss Crowe, have come to us with a rather beneficial proposal that will be to your advantage."

"I have little concern for the Ministry's finances." She stated, not wanting any more advantages coming from Mr Malfoy over there, thank-you very much.

"Well, Granger, perhaps you should hear what the proposal is before passing judgement," he remarked condescendingly. She glared at him, knowing full well that there were ulterior motives involved here. "Carla here is the marketing/advertising director of the Malfoy conglomerate," he started, exchanging a sickening smile with Carla, and spawning a strange feeling in Hermione as she caught the end of it when he turned back to face her. "She has suggested a brilliant way to target a wider audience, which will improve our market share."

"That's great for you and your market share, but I don't see how this has any relation to my department affairs." Hermione tersely remarked.

"It has everything to do with your little muggle magazine, however," he continued, vaguely.

"And how is that?" She turned to Mr. Dixon for answers.

"Well, Miss. Granger, the Ministry is undergoing some budget re-evaluations and your magazine may be limited to a quarterly publication rather than monthly. The production costs outweigh the informative value," the thin lipped man declared with a note of self-importance. He suffered from severe short man syndrome, Hermione concluded.

She stared at him in disbelief that this issue had not been raised with her previously, and in a private setting. "On whose authority and evaluation has this judgement of value been made?" Anger was simmering in the pit of her stomach.

"Well…mine of course. I have a responsibility to ensure the Ministry can satisfy project aims and not exceed budget. It is a matter of checks and balances if you will."

"I am well aware of your checks and balances, Mr. Dixon. Our department went through all the necessary approvals. Is this the case for all publications? What about the law enforcement department magazine? Is that having cut backs too? Perhaps we should host fewer balls annually?" She was becoming livid now. There was no doubt in her mind that the number cruncher over here had not even flicked through her department's magazine.

She heard Malfoy clear his throat signalling his interruption. "Granger, if you agree to host our advertising you can issue your little muggle magazine fortnightly, if you so desire. This is a solution to the problem and it serves both our interests." His head tilted as if he were regarding a small child. Carla had a look of satisfaction that left Hermione thinking that arrogance was a pre-requisite for Malfoy company employees.

"And, what exactly will these advertisements contain, Malfoy? How many pages of your ads would we need to include? Don't you think it would appear strange that a magazine regarding muggle/ wizarding relations would be filled with promotions of companies owned by a Malfoy?" She wanted to laugh at the irony but maintained her composure.

"Miss Granger, consumers will not be interested in the origin of the advertisements they encounter. It is about the product and services being offered, and most are under company names that have no reference to the name Malfoy," Carla added. So, the sidekick wasn't just for aesthetic value. Hermione stared at her blankly.

"Miss Granger, do not think of this as a compromise. It is beneficial to everyone and you should strongly consider the arrangement." Mr Dixon was trying to elicit an encouraging tone that left Hermione is a state of repugnance.

"Mr. Dixon, I will not allow my magazine to be fluffed with product advertisements. It will only serve to undermine the content. If the only alternative is a quarterly issue then I will settle for that." She turned to face Malfoy as she stood. He also stood up. "If you will excuse me, I think I might call it a day. Thank-you for the offer, but I respectfully decline," she nodded curtly to Carla and moved to exit the office. Mr. Dixon was rather perplexed at the turn of events, his lips almost disappearing as he glared after the stubborn director of muggle relations.

Hermione was waiting for the lift, seething at the injustice her department suffered, reminding her of her personal hurdles as a muggleborn.

"If I remember correctly, this magazine is the best part of your job, Granger," the familiar drawl broke her thought process as she looked up to see Draco Malfoy.

"I don't see how that is any of your…," she narrowed her eyes at him in realisation, "You read my daily planner!" she exclaimed in distrust.

"Not read, skimmed Granger. It was open when I picked it up." He corrected smugly.

"That still gives you no right!" She wanted to stamp her foot in protest but the mature Hermione Granger was too professional for such a childish display of displeasure.

"Does it help if I tell you it was an accident?" his voice lowered to an unfamiliar tone.

"Don't see how that makes a difference, or why you care?" she retorted crossing her arms across her chest in defence.

"Meet me for coffee tomorrow?" He leaned into her as he spoke and she felt a slight breeze through her hair. She scanned his mercury eyes, confused at the change of behaviour and vibe surrounding her.

"And, why would I do such a thing?" She quizzed, her eyebrows raised.

"Because you and I are both people who know what we want Granger. Think about the proposal." She could not help but place a double meaning to his words, her breath shortened involuntarily. She did not have time to respond as the lift chimed its arrival and the doors open. She entered, turning to face him as she pressed the button to her floor. The doors closed, he was still regarding her with a gaze that suited his unfamiliar tone, a half smile crossing his face as she looked away.

Hermione returned to her office, grabbed her bag, not taking any work home with her. She was exhausted and definitely troubled.


	4. The opposition

**Disclaimer: You know the drill...J.K Rowling knows it too! Plot provided by me though! **

**A/N: A look into Draco... **

Chapter 4

Draco Malfoy possessed all the qualities of the quintessential male thinker. This class of man exhibited such distinguished tendencies of superciliousness that any person who crossed his path was left with a lingering sense of astonishment. However, for Draco, this was the mark of a strong, confident, logical individual, who was bred to impress power and command respect. To anyone who knew little of his true character, Draco was intimidating, and that was exactly how he wanted it to be. Yet, to those fortunate few who encountered Draco on a level beyond his exterior shell, they would find that he possessed such complexity that it would have one on tenterhooks. No doubt, Draco Malfoy was an expert at social interaction and could second guess anyone, but, disturbingly, he was having a hard time lately.

It was not until very recently that this new phenomenon had converged on him. Draco could identify exactly at which point a sudden influx of foreign thoughts had invaded his psyche, creating a state of chronic unease. What was even more disconcerting was the fact that the nature of these thoughts bordered on insecurity, which was a major cause for alarm. In fact, Draco Malfoy was feeling rather bothered by one thing, or should he say one person, in particular: one Hermione Granger. For you see, she was the cause of it all.

Since the Ministry ball, Draco had been in a state of distraction. His usual self was so focused in his business ventures, his social affairs: they were so confidently achieved and self-assurance of success was analogous to the unchallengeable fact that magic existed. But, the woman in the exceedingly high shoes had left a lingering impression on him, much to his dissatisfaction.

In recollection, Draco had wandered down the corridor towards the restrooms to answer a private call from a muggle business partner. Few people were aware of the extent of Droco's entrepreneurial endeavours; he never disclosed his business associates to others unless he faced a potential conflict, but that would never arise between the two worlds. After taking his call and wandering out of the restroom, Draco's gaze had been drawn to the deep plum, silk clad vision of the slender woman ahead of him. He had been admiring her slender legs, accentuated by her heels, or to put it more bluntly, he had been checking her out on his way back to the atrium. Draco, in all his confidence, had actually moved to approach the woman to put a face to the fine figure, but, as he closed in on her she stumbled and he reached out to stop her from falling.

It was more out of curiosity, rather than genuine concern, that had driven his act of chivalry. And, he could tell the woman had been drinking from her delayed responses, which he considered rather amusing at such a formal affair. So, against his general instinct not to involve himself, he had healed her sprained ankle, perhaps driven by the thought that if he had called for help, this woman would feel humiliated in her current state. Draco could do subtlety if called upon, and that is exactly why he had ensured she was okay, or so he told himself. Now, if that was surprise enough, it was his behaviour upon discovering that the lady in need was the one and only Hermione Granger that certainly made him want to re-evaluate his sanity.

Draco Malfoy never felt compelled to do anything for anyone, even for an attractive woman. And yet, seeing Granger in such a state, he seemed to find his feet firmly fixed before her as his mind sought to rebel from the urge to stay with her as if he cared. Surely Granger could take care of herself, going by his history with her and knowledge of her rather obsessive self reliant and know-it-all attitude. Against his better judgement, he had ensured she had left the ball discreetly and safely, to the point where he had even considered whether or not to floo after her, only to remember that she would have had wards up to avoid strangers like himself from just popping in. He had tried to forget the whole ordeal by sweet talking a young blonde secretary all the way back to his apartment, leaving her date behind. Hermione Granger had left a lingering impression on Draco Malfoy, and that was a rare thing indeed.

Having mentally dealt with his actions, excusing his behaviour, it was not until the following Wednesday that Hermione Granger caused further disruption. This time, he certainly thought himself more prepared; the conversation had remained distant, he had snidely reminded her of her drunken escapades by referring to her shoes noticing the discomfort it caused her, as she rushed away from his presence leaving her food _untouched_ as she had so eloquently put it. Nevertheless, his reassurance of a normal encounter was defeated when he had stupidly decided to run after her to return her diary in person. He tried to reason that it was the courteous thing to do, and probably because he would have been too enticed to read through it if he hadn't. He was well aware of the fact that he could have just handed it to the waitress and Granger would have come back for it.

Catching her off guard in the laneway sent his mind reeling back to the night of the ball. The surprise in her face was the same, but she masked it quickly being sober and all. He was reproachful for putting himself in the same situation of unexplainable antics and felt the urge to make her uncomfortable again as he remarked on her sudden reliance on him. It came across as indifferent amusement which angered her to no end, and re-affirmed her stubbornness. Some things never changed, he thought, and decided to let it go rather than revisiting old turf of aimless quarrelling that now haunted the halls of Hogwarts. He could tell that she was confused at his compliance, that she would take it wrongly and treat it as a personal attack that he had not time for her. She was right, of course, and he thought that would be the end of it. But, contrary to his uncanny ability to predict behaviour, he was mistaken in this instance. She wanted to re-affirm control, and she had thanked him. He accepted. They stood there staring at each other as if they had called a belated truce, he could sense her discomfort and it made him feel better. He carried the baton of control in the end, and walked away with it firmly in his grasp. The week progressed wonderfully.

In all honesty, Draco Malfoy had no knowledge that Hermione Granger was the Director of Muggle Relations. In fact the whole idea of working with the Ministry had never appealed to him; he had kept his distance from their affairs in contempt of his father mostly. But, new blood to the board of directors brought new ideas and he was inclined to overlook his preconceptions. It didn't help that he was visually allured by his new director of marketing/advertising, Carla Crowe. She oozed self-confidence, in the boardroom and in the bedroom and he knew she meant business, none of those emotional strings running loose. She had challenged him by throwing the suggestion of advertising through the Ministry, he knew she was testing her limits but it impressed him.

Yet, it was not until Draco was exposed to Granger in her element that left him in a state of bewilderment. Her Gryffindor courage was radiating off her, she was grounded, astute and determined, a complete contrast to her drunken vulnerability. He was losing hold of the baton.

He had to win the challenge, even if he was the only one competing. He went after her as she left the office while Carla spoke with Dixon. They were alone for the third time in less than a week.

"_Meet me for coffee tomorrow?"_ He wanted to throw her off, intimidate her. He was not prepared of the waft of gardenia radiating off her hair as he closed in on her. He could tell she was searching for ulterior motive, and in the moment the lift doors closed on her, he knew they were on common ground: troubled.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


	5. An exercise in control

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its charcters belong to J.K Rowling. The fun is in the plot for me. **

**A/N: I really should be asleep, I am not going to be a happy chap tommorow morning! Thanks to all who have reviewed! **

Chapter 5

Hermione could not recall the last time she had woken up during the week with such a complete lack of enthusiasm that to even consider going for a morning jog drained her. Her daily routine was normally akin to a battery re-charge, yet, on this particular morning, she just wanted to skip through it all. It did not help that she was irritable about the fact that to even endeavour to satisfy her coffee fix would mean contact with Malfoy. Hermione was frustrated and out of sorts. The whole magazine issue, the loss of routine, she was losing her sense of control.

She flood to work to make herself busy, finishing what she had left behind last night in her haste. Her office door suddenly opened, "Oh, you're here! I thought you'd be over at the café by now?" It was her assistant, Daria.

"Not going," Hermione mumbled, not looking up from her parchment. "Don't feel like coffee today." Daria regarded her suspiciously. Since when did her boss _not _want her morning coffee? She had worked for Hermione for two years, and this had never happened. She didn't want to pry but something was up.

"Well…okay. Do you want your messages?" She was holding a rather large stack of memos. Hermione looked up at the petite blonde, who was in fact five years her senior. Daria was married with a child, and possessed a maternal quality that allowed Hermione to trust her from the beginning. She had a great sense of humour, and was the go to person for inter office venting.

"Sure. Has the Minister responded to my request for a meeting?" Hermione was still seething about the status of her magazine and she was unable to raise it at the monthly meeting earlier that morning.

"Not yet, his assistant is being a prick today. I think he overheard me telling Lavender that he needed to get out more. Percy is a pain." Hermione nodded, she couldn't believe Percy had been able to hold on to his position for so long. But, it didn't surprise her that he hadn't moved on from it. She would have to catch the minister in the hallways.

"Can you get his schedule for the afternoon? I'll try and run into him." She was stubborn after all.

"You know I'm the very person for it!" Daria smiled widely. It appeared she possessed a power over all assistants in the Ministry. Like she was the sovereign of the support staff. Hermione smiled genuinely for the first time that day, and it hurt her muscle cheeks from lack of use.

"So, what other messages?"

"Well, the Director of Law Enforcement wants a meeting, the Prophet wants an interview, Luna Weasley wants to confirm you're coming to lunch on Saturday, and there are a series of rather cryptic messages from one DM. Know who that is?"

Hermione's eyes widened at the mention of the initials. "What do they say?" She frowned.

"The first says, 'I deemed your silence as acquiescence'," she shuffled over to the next note, "Will be here till noon", she shuffled again, readjusting her glasses before reading, "You're on the sixth floor right?" She looked up at Hermione quizzically. "Is someone threatening you?"

Hermione nearly jumped out of her seat at the last message. As if Malfoy would dare. "What? No, it's just an old acquaintance being nosy. Forget about them." She quickly changed the subject and said, "Tell the director of law enforcement I'm not available this week, tell the Prophet I am unavailable this month, and tell Luna that she doesn't have to be so formal with me," She paused reflectively, "Scratch the last, just tell her I will be there." She did not want to re-visit former sentiments. "Come to think of it, I will go have that coffee. What time is it?" She got up and grabbed her handbag heading for the door.

"It's only eleven," she ruefully offered, wishing it would be lunchtime already, as her boss darted out of the office.

Hermione was so irate at Malfoy, threatening to come to her office, her sanctuary. That was the last place she wanted her distractions to contaminate. She apparated to Diagon Alley and made her way through the laneway to her café spot, entering reluctantly.

"Hermione? I was beginning to wonder if something happened to you!" The young waitress chimed. She winced at her name being called out but smiled appreciatively at the concerned girl.

"I thought I would juggle it with a meeting here. I'll just have the usual flat white," Hermione responded, moving toward the back of the café. She knew Malfoy would be sitting in her spot, probably in the seat she liked too. As she approached, she could not miss the distinguishable flaxen hair of its owner's head. She sat down opposite him before speaking, "Don't contact me at the office," she reprimanded, narrowing her eyes at him. Draco looked up, smirking at her complacently.

"Good morning to you too, Granger, glad you got my messages," sarcasm dripping in his tone. He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes resting on her the whole time. She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs, pulling her skirt over her knees. His eyes drifted downward as he placed his coffee cup down, but she didn't notice.

"I don't have much time, so what exactly do you want to discuss?" The waitress brought over her coffee. "Thanks," Hermione smiled at her and proceeded to add sugar, focusing her eyes on the thin foam layer as she stirred it through rhythmically. She looked up to Draco expectantly as he reached into his bag pulling out an A3 folio.

"This," Draco slid it over to her side of the coffee table. He was a man of many words this morning.

"And, what exactly is _this,_" She was not going to satisfy her curiosity until he told her. Draco ran his hand through his hair, it only make it fall back with more volume.

"_This_ is a collection of our products, advertisements and sample ads for other prominent publications. Might help you make a more informative decision. Our offer still stands." He regarded her cooly but his tone was civil, almost melodic.

"Malfoy, as I said yesterday, I'm happy with a quarterly publication," she reminded him, rather feebly. Her true feelings were far from it though. In truth, she considered the magazine a symbol of shifting ideals but she would not be at the gratitude of private enterprise.

"I think, Granger, you're being too narrow minded about your little project." Draco leaned back in his chair crossing his own leg over the other and running his finger down the crease of his black suit pants before folding up the sleeves of his shirt.

"Oh? How so?" Hermione's gaze shifted to his newly revealed forearms. His skin was smooth and fair, the muscles defined, with hands that could work magic. She scolded herself and looked away, downing the rest of her coffee in one gulp.

"A mere overlook of potential, but it's not you're fault, the Ministry does not endorse the bigger picture. You're all confined to your departments," He leaned forward, his eyes twinkling knowingly, but she had not idea about what. "If you follow my advice, which I would be willing to give in business relations, your sideline project could become central to your career, highly influential and big business."

"I am quite content with my career as it is, Malfoy."

"Content, but not satisfied," he remarked.

She searched his eyes for understanding, "I'm sure this isn't the only way to improve your market share Malfoy, why the insistence?"

"I have a vested interest, and I don't let go of a potential great thing when I see it." He waived his hand analogously before running it through his hair again. "Just take a look at the folio, okay? It won't hurt to consider it in a bit more detail." He pushed it further toward her.

"Fine," Hermione sighed. There would be no harm done. "But, I doubt I will change my mind."

He shrugged indifferently. She uncrossed her legs and reached for her hand bag.

"I see you're sticking to flats these days, more practical, I guess," he drawled.

"Malfoy, must you always feel the need to comment on my shoes of late?" She knew he would throw in a personal attack. It was given after all these years. He was still trying to remind her of her drunken escapades.

"Well, Granger, I have developed an insatiable interest in your footwear. Consider it a compliment." He winked. She glared. No one winks at Hermione Granger.

"Leave it Malfoy," she resigned, standing and grabbing the folio. He looked up at her, his smirk making a re-appearance. "This meeting is over," she stated.

"As you wish. I would consider this a record for us anyway." It was Hermione's turn to smirk now.

"Bye, Malfoy," She didn't wait for his response and walked away, figuring he could cover her coffee for disrupting her morning routine.


	6. The trio interrupted

**Insert dislcaimer re: J.K.R owning Harry Potter here. **

Chapter 6

Saturdays were for sleeping in till ten and going for brunch in muggle London with a friend or family member. It was slotted in to keep in touch with everyone so that Hermione was not criticised for being so involved in her work life. Her mother especially worried, and Hermione figured she'd better check in with her since she had that small reunion of the golden trio going on at Ron's place. She was excited, but just not in the mood to be friendly with Luna. Things were strained between them. It was because of Ron. Luna had married the guy and was still somehow paranoid about Hermione being around him. It bothered her to no end to have her prying into her friendship with Ron; she had known him much longer. Luna had even managed to keep them apart as much as possible through Ron's job at the _Quibbler. _In truth, there were other things that Luna didn't know had happened between Hermione and Ron, she certainly suspected it, but it was always directed at Hermione. In fact, no one really knew about it, not even Harry.

There had always been an undeniable attraction between them, it was different to her bond with Harry, and it had carried through without either of them acting on it. Perhaps it was in defiance of the expectations of everyone around them, or some subconscious concern that they did not want to complicate the great friendship they shared. That is, until after Ron and Luna had become engaged. Hermione rarely thought about it now, but at the time she wasn't upset about it, she felt rather empty when Ron had told her. He had come to her privately and told her first, she was excited for him but hearing him say it made her feel unwanted: that any attraction which existed was simply one sided and she had mentally fabricated it all.

It was a week before the wedding, Ron and Harry were due to meet Hermione for a catch up drink, but Harry had cancelled at the last minute because of his training schedule and it ended up being Ron and Hermione. In the circumstances, emotions erratic and uncontrollable, they both had too much to drink and it was not until Ron had said those first words that the floodgates opened. He had told that he had second thoughts and that he felt like he was missing out on something; he had missed his chance with her. Knowing this, she had said the same thing back to him, and the realisation that each had only thought their deeper attraction was not reciprocated dawned on them. Hermione couldn't even remember the moment they went from talking at the bar, to apparating back to her place where Ron had kissed her and she had let him. They were caught in the moment of passion and ended up spending the night together. The funny thing was that the following morning, things weren't weird between them, they had needed it to move on; their friendship had not changed. Hermione smiled to herself at the thought, it was a happy memory, albeit an intimate secret that could not be told. But, Ron and Hermione had conceded that nobody would understand and at that, the covert nature of their one time affair did not eat into their guilty conscience. It was enough to leave it behind them.

Hermione apparated outside the Weasley house and approached the front door of the double Victorian terrace. Ron had offered her to housesit while they were away but she had politely turned down the offer as she felt rather awkward hanging out in the martial home of her best friend, especially since Luna was unlikely to be comfortable with the idea despite being the obliging wife and allowing Ron to offer. She frowned at that sudden thought.

"Hermione!" She instantly recognised the familiar voice of Harry and turned excitedly.

"Harry!" she ran up to him, enveloping her arms around him in a tight grip as her head rested on his shoulder. "I've missed you; it's been too many months!" His grip on her tightened before he gently pushed her back, holding her shoulders as he doted over her affectionately.

"I feel at home when I see you smile," he warmly revealed. "You look great!"

"Can say the same to you!" she eyed him up and down in jest, they had always innocently flirted, and it made for lots of laughs between them. Harry, of course, had pursued a well deserved, and somewhat carefree, career as a professional Quidditch player. His excellent physique was only a natural consequence of how he spent his time, and he oozed a boyish cheekiness that did not escape the attention of the opposite sex.

"When did you get back from Brazil?" Harry had been at a tournament in South America playing for the English team. His hands fell from her shoulders and he took her hand as they proceeded to the door.

"Only yesterday, but couldn't pass up a chance to see you guys," he said as he squeezed her hand before letting go. Hermione pressed the Weasley doorbell, it was a Fred and Geroge invention that was charmed to particular reactions depending on the mood of the owners. She felt as tingling sensation escalate through her arm, and into the pit of her stomach as the feeling of butterflies erupted. The homeowners were feeling rather amorous it seemed. Hermione chuckled at the feeling. Harry eyed her quizzically before she grabbed his hand and pressed his finger to the doorbell in an attempt to explain her reaction. His eyebrows raised and he too laughed. Ron finally came to the door, his face lit up by their presence.

"Hermione!" he kissed her cheek as she walked in and then he and Harry had their man hug and prolonged catch up in the doorway before all three proceeded down the corridor to the open kitchen area at the back, which opened up to an al fresco dining area that overlooked that back garden.

"Luna has invited a couple of friends too, some of them are bringing dates so who knows whose turning up now but we can always head into the sitting room and ignore them all," he grinned mischievously. Ron had always been the one to maintain the clique they shared, always inviting them to the Burrow, hosting dinner parties, arranging long weekends away they were younger. It was a nice feeling to have that even after all these years, that one thing hadn't changed. But, it was certainly becoming harder with their careers dominating over their life.

"Always up for a game of wizard's chess," Harry offered jokingly, glancing at Hermione. She rolled her eyes. There was nothing like bonding over such a violent game which would often end in some argument with Hermione always the one to come to the rescue. Ron handed each a butterbeer and the three toasted and drank in unison.

Luna promptly entered the room, her ash blonde tresses trailing behind her. She had mastered her creative fashion sense over the years, and now was the trend setter so it seemed. She went over and kissed Ron adoringly, before turning to them both.

"Harry! Great to see you!" She exclaimed, hugging him. He reciprocated.

"Hermione, nice to see you again," she said, offering a girly kiss on the cheek. "What happened at the ball? Ron was looking for you after the dancing," she asked as an inquiring look crossed her face, one that was not well meaning.

'_Shit!' _Hermione quickly masked her sudden recollection of seeing Ron and Luna before her whole debacle with Malfoy. Being the quick witted woman that she was, she merely responded, "I was caught up talking to a few colleagues which was hard to escape, and then realising it was quite late I headed home." That should do it.

Ron laughed, "That's our Hermione, can't take a break from the call of duty." Thankfully, that was the end of it.

"We are expecting a few other people shortly. We'll be having lunch outside. Ron mastered the charm for the marquee, didn't you hun?" She linked her arm with his and snuggled into him. Ron chuckled, "Of course I did, anything for you." He kissed her cheek and winked at her. Harry and Hermione just exchanged knowing looks. They had come to the realisation that Ron had grown up, married, and was a responsible adult, but, the whole love thing, they both didn't get since neither had ever been _in love_, as they called it. For a moment, Hermione was relieved that Harry was there to understand how she felt.

"How's Ginny doing?" Harry asked Ron.

"She's on holiday in Kenya with Dean. They pick the craziest places to go to, but apparently it's amazing from what she wrote in her owl."

"I haven't had a holiday in so long!" Hermione interjected. She really hadn't even considered taking one in the last few years. She had gone on business trips but that hardly counted.

"You should go to South America, it's brilliant," Harry offered.

"Yeah, Peru has always been on my list." Hermione agreed. She took the last swig of her butterbeer, setting it down on the kitchen bench.

The doorbell chimed through the house announcing the arrival of more guests. Luna disappeared to greet her guests.

"So Harry, how were the witches in Brasil?" Ron asked now that Luna wasn't around.

"Hot mate, hot." Hermione laughed at him. Harry was always been blunt about the opposite sex, and Hermione was used to being one of the boys in such discussions with her two friends. "What? Couldn't bring any home?" She joked.

"The cold would kill them. Some things are best left behind." He shrugged, before elbowing her gently and winking.

"Wish the _Quibbler_ had sent me to report in Brasil, they sent McMillan instead." Ron slightly frowned in annoyance.

"Yeah, I gave an interview. He came out with us a couple times." Ron glowered.

"Kidding Ron, he only came out with us once. You'll get the next one." Ron's grimace softened slightly, and all three laughed at the progression of his facial expression.

"Let's head outside, I'll put the marquee up." Ron offered and they followed. With a flick of his wand, that required a day of practice, the back garden was completely taken up by a great magenta marquee, the roof form rising into a poppy head dome mimicking those often seen in great Russian architecture.

"I thought red was more your colour?" Harry teased in admiration.

"I'm sure it's safe to assume Luna chose the colour? It looks wonderful, Ron. You must teach me the spell!" Hermione assured, feeling rather amused by the fact that she had asked Ron to teach her magic.

"Thanks guys, I had to impress the wife. And, I can safely say that party planning spells are now my forte." He stuck his chest out to gloat at his new found talent.

With that, Luna walked through the bi-fold doors onto the patio, clapping her hands in glee as she admired Ron's creation. "Perfect timing!" she cheered. Moving aside, Hermione glanced over at the newly arrived guests. There stood, Padma Patil, another girl she did not recognise, Blaise Zabini, Carla Crowe, and the one and only Draco Malfoy. There was something very wrong with this arrangement indeed. She glanced over to Harry who definitely did not hide his surprise as he moved over to stand closer to her. Ron seemed indifferent; he was being the diplomatic husband. She froze as her gaze fell on Malfoy, his trademark look of superiority plastered across is face and his eyes focused directly on her.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**A/N: This is where the fun starts! Draco and Hermione interacting in public amongst friends. Good times!**


	7. Reading between the lines

**Disclaimer re: Harry Potter belonging to J.K.R goes here. **

**A/N: And so the fun begins... I have delved into a bit of psych studies but never took it seriously. Thanks for your reviews! :P**

Chapter 7

"Ron dear, Harry, Hermione, I'm sure you remember Padma, her fiancé Blaise, and Draco from school? This is my cousin Carla, and colleague Keira." Luna enthused.

Ron was the first to move and approached them shaking all their hands. His hesitation in greeting Blaise and Malfoy was obvious to Hermione and Harry but he succumbed to playing host. Hermione could not believe Carla was Luna's cousin, but it made sense in some strange way. Their facial features conveyed some common resemblance, with their perfect symmetry. She hoped she wouldn't have to discuss business with her. Harry and Hermione both walked over to Padma in an effort to mingle.

"So Padma, you and Blaise eh?" Harry started, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Yeah, a bit surreal isn't it? We met through work; we both work at St. Mungo's. I'm a healer but Blaise is Director of operations." Hermione was trying to listen but was distracted by Malfoy's presence amongst her best friends. They knew nothing of their recent contact, even though there was nothing to tell, she hadn't even mentioned that she had run into him at the ball, or through work.

"So, when is the big day?" Hermione felt compelled to ask.

"Not for a while, we just got engaged, so probably next year." She offered pleasantly. Padma was friendlier with Harry than Hermione, she had never kept any close girl friends other than Ginny, who was by default. Lavender Brown was probably the only person she saw regularly, since she worked at the Ministry. "Are you two together?" Padma questioned.

"What?" She hadn't been listening as she averted her eyes back to Padma.

Harry jumped in for the save though, responding, "No, still best of friends though," as he smiled at her. Blaise walked over and circled his arm around Padma, directing a nod to Harry and Hermione.

"Hi, it's been a while since I've see you two," he was being politely sociable. Hermione hardly knew Blaise, and Harry didn't like him for sheer fact that he was a Slytherin who associated with Malfoy. Despite all the post war efforts for reconciliation they had maintained a cool distance. He didn't hate Malfoy like he once had. Rather, he just disliked his character, personality, and what he stood for. They were civil in public, given that Malfoy had sponsored the English Quidditch team.

They started on small talk, asking what each had been up to, divulging little information that mattered but keeping up polite conversation in any case. Blaise and Harry seemed to share a similar sense of humour, which inevitably turned to discussing Quidditch, leaving Hermione feeling uninterested. She excused herself and went in to the kitchen for a drink, offering refreshments to the others.

Hermione had the refrigerator door open, and was reaching in for a few butterbeers. She pulled out six bottles, three in each hand was a potentially hazardous effort and closing the door would require the gentle kick of a leg. As she pulled out and swung the door shut with her foot she looked up to face the distinctly unique eyes of Malfoy. It was lucky she didn't drop the bottles in her fright.

"Malfoy!" She exclaimed, trying to calm herself. "Don't creep up on people like that!"

"Are one of those for me?" He asked expectantly, ignoring her admonishment. She always seemed to exhibit a reproachful demeanour in the first instances of their interactions.

"Sure, whatever," she lifted her right arm so he could pull one away from her grip, disgruntled at his lack of acknowledgment.

"Thanks," he grinned. It was one of those unfamiliar responses that caught her off guard.

"I can't work you out Granger," he started as he too a swig of his frosty drink, "I don't know whether it's been you and Weasley, or Potter…or maybe both?" his voice lowered significantly at the last part as his left eyebrow rose suggestively.

Shocked at the comment, Hermione snapped, "I am rather confused Malfoy, since I don't see how it is any of your business!" Her voice had probably travelled to the others just outside. She gestured to move away from him.

"Careful Granger, we are in the company of others. But your answer tells me you have something to hide," he retorted pleasingly.

"Think what you like. It really amazes me how nosy you are for a man."

"Man enough for you?" Her eyes widened before shifting to a cool glare. He was messing with her again.

"Don't make me gag."

"No, I don't believe I have previously caused that reaction."

"What are you insinuating?"

"Only the obvious."

"Oh, so you are a pompous arse that likes to have the upper hand?"

"I might be, but it certainly pays off in the bedroom"

"Thankyou, for ruining my appetite."

"Not to worry, it's something I can put right if you let me?"

"Are you flirting with me?" She had to be blunt. It was his turn to stumble and she inwardly laughed at his reaction knowing he didn't expect this.

His surprise was obvious, and then he seemed to reflect a moment before answering, "I believe I am, what _are_ you going to do about it? And, don't walk away, that is just too predictable."

"Well then, that leaves me no option than to excuse my predictable behaviour. Don't make this into something it's not. Anyway, don't you think we should head back out before one of the others has a cardiac arrest at our intimate interaction?" Her eyes twinkled in defiance.

He chuckled. That was new. "Lead the way."

Back outside Hermione approached Harry, Padma and Blaise with drinks, keeping one for her own consumption. She looked over to see Malfoy whispering with Carla, which only made her cringe, and Ron and Luna were entertaining Keira. Why was he flirting with her if he was here with Carla? Typical for him to date a colleague, she reflected.

"So Hermione, when is the next issue of _Understanding Muggles _due?" She was shocked that Blaise would ask her such a question.

"You've read it?" she asked with interest.

"Yeah, Draco gave me a copy the other day, asked me to have a look at it. I was impressed." Blaise said eagerly. Not only had Blaise, a pureblood Slytherin, read her magazine, but Malfoy had too? He had made out that he was not interested in it in the least and had disassociated himself from the Ministry. She was in a state of incredulity, and it annoyed her to no end that it was directed toward Malfoy.

"Well, it was supposed to be a monthly journal, but it seems it's turning quarterly - Ministry funding issues and all, although I probably shouldn't mention that." She grimaced as an image thin lipped Dixon appeared in her thoughts. "But, I am glad to hear you found it worthwhile."

"That's a shame; it's a popular read amongst patients. You should have a few articles in there about muggle methods being adopted by healers," Padma offered.

Blaise nodded in agreement. "Definitely, there have been a lot of new developments at St Mungos. I would be happy to contribute."

"Thanks, I might just take you up on that offer." She smiled, feeling rather happy with the fact that Padma and Blaise were genuinely interested in the potential of the magazine. She glanced over at Malfoy as she took a sip of her drink, he was talking to Harry.

"Can everyone find a seat at the table, we are about to serve lunch," Luna interrupted suddenly. Hermione, pre-occupied with her thoughts, was one of the last to move over to the table. 'This will be interesting', she thought. Harry signalled her to sit next to him but Keira moved to sit instead, oblivious to Harry's gestures. He gave her an apologetic look as she compromised by sitting next to Keira. There were an odd number of guests which meant the opposite end had four seats to the three on her side. Ron sat at the head of the table at her end, and Luna at the other. At least there was some consolation that she would not have to interact with Luna. But, she had spoken too soon, as Malfoy and Carla sat opposite her, Blaise next to Malfoy, and Padma on the end near Luna. 'This should be very interesting,' she frowned.

"Having a good time? I didn't realise who would be coming," Ron leaned over and whispered to Hermione.

She smiled signalling that it was fine, "It's nothing to worry about. Padma and Blaise are actually really nice. And besides, I am here to catch up with my best friends first." He patted her hand in agreement before getting up to deal with his host duties. Hermione looked across the table to see that Malfoy had been eyeing their exchange as Carla was prattling away about something. He smirked at her contemplatively. She turned to talk to Keira, yet to speak to her all day.

"Keira, is it?" She prompted.

"Yes, Hermione right?"

"Yeah, so do you work at the _Quibbler_?

"No, I work in publishing, I am editing Luna's latest book."

"Oh wow, how is that going?"

"Well, I have my moments; Luna has an interesting vocabulary which often leaves me wondering whether I am in the right line of work. She writes with such conviction," she laughed. Hermione could not help but laugh too, thinking of all the creatures Luna would discuss that no one had previously heard of.

"I can imagine what you mean." She nodded, glancing over at the other end of the table where Luna was engaged in conversation with Harry, Padma and Blaise, waving her hands about as she did when she was feeling rather passionate about something.

"So, what do you do," Keira asked.

"I work at the Ministry, in Muggle relations."

"Don't be modest Hermione," Ron interrupted rather loudly as he set down the salads on the table at their end. "She is the Director of Muggle Relations." He said it rather proudly, making her blush slightly. Keira was visibly impressed.

"So are you responsible for the magazine _Understanding Muggles_ then?" Malfoy and Carla's attention was instantly drawn to their conversation. Hermione knew this would happen.

"Yes, I am," she offered, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

"Don't you think it's a great little magazine?" Carla interjected, entering the conversation with the right amount of force. Hermione glanced up at her, sending a warning look not to delve into business affairs. She simply smiled back innocently. Malfoy was sitting back in his seat, his arm around Carla's chair, déjà vu seemed to kick in. If only he was holding a pen.

"Yes, I think it's great. The things you learn at school, if you do decide to take muggle studies in the first place, are more insightful rather than practical. I was fascinated by the article about that internet thing and the floo-apparition equivalents muggles utilise."

"I thought the same thing, too bad it's only issued quarterly." Carla said ruefully. She was a great actress, Hermione decided.

"Oh, really? That's too bad, I would definitely subscribe to it fortnightly! It raises as lot of new ideas for publishing, everyone has been reading it at work. There are few current books on the topic." Keira seamed genuinely disappointed. Hermione was out of sorts.

"Well, it not definite yet, but it is likely to only be a quarterly issue," Hermione reassured. She did not know why she said that but it certainly raised the hopes of Malfoy and Carla. He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, she ignored it.

"Does that mean you are still considering alternative options?" he suddenly asked, leaning forward. This was the first time Malfoy had said a word to her in everyone's presence all day. He spoke with such a confident tone; the whole table had now turned their attention to their conversation. Hermione was feeling rather riled by the sudden attention and the unshakeable feeling that she was under duress to respond favourably.

Hermione concentrated her attention on him; she would answer with the same conviction. "It is something that still needs to go through the department's approval," she replied. She knew it was vague and he wouldn't buy it, albeit everyone else seemed satisfied.

"As director of your department, does that mean your approval?" He was being a cocky bastard.

"Well the ultimate decision is mine, but my department requires full disclosure to all participants who will be collaborating. I can't suddenly offload more work to my employees. There may be a need for re-structure or a definitive team," she asserted, her confidence was re-affirmed but she hated how he had a way of putting her on the spot, making her think twice before answering.

He merely nodded, "Yes, I'd forgotten about the bureaucratic measures involved, good luck with that." He might have seemed genuine to the others but Hermione sensed his sarcastic undertone, he had not bought her reasoning but decided not to push it further, as his interest in the affairs of the muggle relations department would not go unnoticed. He was, after all, a Slytherin pureblood prince first and foremost.

Ron came back to the table, waving his wand for the rest of the food to appear. The flutes in front of them filled with champagne and Hermione's stomach almost flipped at the sight of the bubbly but accepted the glass politely as Ron prompted a toast.

"To my lovely wife, my great friends and good company, cheers everyone," Ron lifted his glass, his attention on his wife at the other end. The guests followed suit as Hermione took a sip of her champagne, careful not to stir up the feeling she was about to dry retch at the taste. Her eyes averted to Malfoy, he was staring back at her, drinking through his flute, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He was the only one that had ever seen her drunk.

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A/N: ...and so it will continue from Draco's view next time...


	8. Disproportionate admissions

**Disclaimer: It all JKR's but for the plot and a few newby characters. **

**A/N: And so it continues through Draco's eyes...**

**Thanks for your reviews, I have taken your critiques on board and hope this chapter is much to your enjoyment! **

Chapter 8

Draco had woken to find Carla still in his bed on Saturday morning. It didn't bother him, he figured their arrangement warranted the frills without meaning anything and he secretly relished at the feeling of another in his bed. He reached across to his bedside clock, it read 11am. His incessant shuffling of the sheets made Carla stir as she leaned across him, placing a hand on his bare chest, kissing his arm lightly.

"What's the time?" She murmured with her eyes still shut.

"Eleven," he stated, staring at the ceiling through his heavy lidded eyes.

"Shit! Really?" she grumbled. "I better get up. I promised my cousin I'd turn up to lunch today."

"Hmmm," was all Draco had offered. He hadn't planned his day so was content to simply stay in bed a little longer. He instantly turned over to face Carla, kissing her neck, as he moved his hands across her bare stomach under the silk sheets.

"I don't have time for a morning round," she firmly stated, pushing his hands off her and moving to get out of the bed. He grabbed her arm gently, pulling her back and lifting himself over her, weight on one elbow, as he scattered kisses along her collar bone, across her décolletage, over to top of breasts while his right hand roamed down to her thigh.

"Come on Draco, I really need to have a shower," she pleaded.

"Just a little longer, I'll come to lunch with you," he mumbled between his kisses. He was more than willing to compromise in his current state.

"You really want to come to lunch?" She inquired, sounding surprised, submitting to his ministrations nonetheless.

"Hmmm, sure," he managed to let out, before forgetting the whole discussion as he became immersed in more pressing activities. And, that was how Draco found himself in front of the Weasley residence, relieved to see that Blaise was also in attendance as he scolded himself for thinking with his lower half.

Draco was pleasantly surprised at the tastefulness of the Weasley house. It had that lived in feeling of a home, but at the same time exuded a modernity that was contrary to his perceptions of how a Weasley lived. He figured Carla's cousin was responsible, until he found out it was Luna Lovegood. He was surprised that she and Weasley had ended up together; he had always presumed that he and Granger would tie the knot. In any case, he didn't give it much further thought until he entered the backyard to see Granger, laughing with Potter, looking relaxed and effervescent, which only served to add to the dimensions of her personality he had encountered. He was rather surprised that there existed a middle ground between her involuntary vulnerability, and her anal retentive, control freak persona. He had noticed her discomfort at his presence. In fact, had Blaise and Carla not been there, he would have run for the door himself, contrary to his façade. But, being the well trained socialite that he was, he looked to the positives of being here, namely: that Hermione Granger did not like it one bit.

He was unduly plagued by the closeness Granger and Potter seemed to share, even after all these years. Potter was certainly rather protective of her, despite their playful interactions.

"So, Draco, finally found monogamy?" Blaise goaded, his mouth forming a knowing grin.

"Not quite," he retorted, looking over at Carla who was chatting with her cousin. She certainly possessed all the qualities he liked in a woman, but there was no emotional link which would drive him to be exclusive. "More like my sexual counterpart, for now," he remarked giving a light laugh at Blaise's facial expression.

"When are you going to move on from the physical Draco? Trust me, the sex is much better with someone you love?"

"Hey, I'm not discounting your theory, it just hasn't happened," he shrugged.

"Think Granger and Potter are together?" Blaise questioned, looking over at them talking to Padma.

"Might be," he said as he eyed them curiously.

"Only one way to find out," he grinned as he walked away to join his fiancé. Draco moved to approach Carla, circling his arms around her waist from behind. He didn't know why he did that, he was surprised with himself, and Carla just looked at him strangely.

"What?" he whispered in her ear defensively. "Can't I give you some attention without you worrying about what it means?"

"It's not what I think Draco, it what everyone else will think. We work together! People talk Draco," she reprimanded, gently removing her hands from his hold on her.

"So, let them." He grinned. "I'm going to get a drink, want one?" he offered, changing the subject.

"No thanks." He merely shrugged, and headed for the kitchen only to see Granger battling it out with the refrigerator door. He inwardly chuckled at the sight of her holding so many bottles. She was stubborn in every sense of the word, to the point of defying common sense. Knowing that she hadn't seen him he thought he would surprise her and the fright was written all over her determined expression. He celebrated at his achievement.

As he took a bottle from her, he couldn't help but notice the smoothness of her hands, it was rather intoxicating. He took a large swig of his drink, letting his stomach flutter at the feeling of the cool butterbeer as it settled. He noticed her shoes, a new habit of course. She was still stuck on the flats, he noted, but they were rather glitzy – a black glow mesh. He raised an eyebrow at their fanciness before averting his eyes to meet her inquisitive stare. He figured it was a good time to throw her off a little; he took pleasure in goading her defensive side, and what better way to do it than question her relations with Potter and Weasley. She was not impressed to say the least, but he detected a hint of anxiety before she snapped at him, sending them on a strange banter filled with innuendo that he really hadn't planned. Her bluntness brought him back to reality as he processed what he had said, deciding to run with it. He was not going to back down now, he was finding this rather entertaining, albeit confusing.

It wasn't until they were seated at the dining table that his curiosity got the better of him as he eyed Granger and Weasley. There had been something there, he speculated. Draco realised that any exchange that had occurred between himself and Granger was always in private and he watched her as she spoke to the pretty brunette next to her. Her demeanour was open, her face lit up with interest at the exchange between them. He noticed her eyes changed colour with her mood, it was a rather intimate realisation and he did not like that he had noticed this characteristic.

Draco was not in the mood to discuss business, but Carla had jumped in at the opportune moment to discuss Granger's magazine. He was rather pleased she had prolonged the topic Granger so clearer wanted to avoid. Never one to miss an opportunity, he figured he may as well press the issue a little more, not believing a word she said as she excused her department's indecision; her indecision. He knew it was only a mater of time before she caved; he just had to find her weakness.

"This is great champagne Luna," he commented after taking a drink. He knew how to dish out the compliments in a social setting.

"Oh, thanks Draco, it's the same one that was served at the ball. I just had to ask one of the barmen for the name." She remarked, her smile spread from ear to ear. He noticed that Granger had abruptly put down her flute.

"You're not a fan of champagne, Granger?" he questioned innocently. She shot him a glare and he could not help but smile.

"No, it's lovely Luna," she tried to reassure, ignoring him completely. He noticed Luna only offered a small smile of recognition.

"It can be an acquired taste," he continued glancing at Granger curiously.

"Yes, once you're hooked though there is no better summer refreshment before a meal." Luna agreed.

"Personally, I prefer a butterbeer any day," Ron added.

"Or, a mature firewhiskey," prompted a jovial Blaise.

The conversation continued to general dining chit chat, Draco paid Carla excessive attention, raising the eyebrows of her cousin and Blaise in particular. He was in an unusually affectionate mood and she seemed to adjust to the idea, responding particularly when Granger's gaze would fall on them. Granger's expression was inscrutable as she conversed with that Keira woman and Weasley, lighting up with laughter occasionally. The discussion turned to Quidditch, as Potter and Draco conversed about the English team's progress and upcoming tournaments. He and Potter had reached an understanding a few years back: simply put, they would be civil.

The drinks kept flowing and the noise level of the lunching folk became increasingly rowdy. Even Granger had submitted to a few drinks. He desperately needed the bathroom and excused himself as the hosts began to clear the table. As he exited the bathroom and progressed down the hallway back to the kitchen, he noticed Granger approaching from the opposite direction. She appeared startled by his presence and shifted her direction into one of the rooms as if it were her destination. He knew she was uneasy from their previous encounter but after a few drinks he was feeling rather devilish. He entered the study she had walked into, gently closing the door behind him.

"Hello Granger. Aren't you just the antisocial one today?" he said sardonically. She turned to face him, a look of uncertainty on her face.

"Actually, I just wanted to make a phone call," she prompted.

"Well I don't see a muggle phone in here," he replied after scanning the room.

"I was checking whether this room had one."

"Come on Granger, you need to do better than that!" He chuckled. She moved to pass him to reach the door, her face puzzled, perhaps at her pathetic cover up. His hand brushed hers; his special awareness was a little off, it seemed. She retracted her hand immediately, looking up at him, a deeper pigment setting in her eyes.

She went to open the door, but he reached his arm out and shut it again.

"Malfoy, can you let me pass? I am not in the mood for your heckling." She sighed in defeat.

"Actually Granger, this is the perfect opportunity to clear a few things." She opened her mouth to interrupt but he held up his other hand to stop her. "Hear me out first, Granger." He leered, regarding her expression, it was one of impatience.

"Well, what exactly is it that you want to discuss?" She demanded, her defensive mode setting in.

"What you are doing now. Why do you get all defensive around me? You are not being professional by letting your feelings in the way of your work."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She stated, dismissing his comments.

"Fuck Granger, you are insufferable. Just because I saw you drunk one night at a stupid Ministry function that was so boring it would drive anyone to the drink, you seem unusually bothered by it."

"I don't see why you care." She was a stubborn one.

"I don't. But, I do care about how it affects my business prospects. Come on Granger, you know my offer is too good to refuse!" He was exasperated now, his hands by his sides, stiff as a board. He could see her mind reeling behind her eyes. "Is it because poor Hermione Granger was in such a state that she had to be helped?"

"No, I am grateful you helped, it's not that." He could tell there was some truth to her words but he could not read between the lines.

"So what exactly bothers you about me Granger? We are not in school anymore, or real enemies, at that." He took a step forward, closing in on her so he could read her expression. He could tell she was at an impasse about whether or not to divulge further information. Granger's walls were crumbling.

She sighed in relent looking directly at him. "Ok, you want to know the truth? Fine. I don't like how you always get what you want, how you can easily just put your foot in everyone's business and take a piece of their pie. I don't like that I was an emotional wreck in front of you at the ball, or that you put me in that state in the first place. And, most of all, I don't like how you make me feel insecure and uncertain about myself, but at the same time, you distract me to no end!" She exhaled loudly, her arms falling limp, her head turning to look away from him.

To say that Draco Malfoy was stunned at Granger's proclamation was an overwhelming understatement. He stood there, lost for words. He certainly hadn't expected this. They were so close to each other that it was noticeably awkward and the energy in the room disturbing to both. She reached to open the door once again, he let her. She walked out. He hadn't moved.

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	9. Uninvited interruptions

**Disclaimer applies once again: JKR is owner of Harry Potter. **

**A/N: Thanks for the responses to the last chapter. It was very fun to write! Hope this one gets an exceeds expectations! LOL! And so, it continues...**

Chapter 9

Hermione had left the Weasley residence with such haste that Harry insisted he would drop by later. She feigned a headache to the hosts and guests before apparating home. It was history repeating, although tenfold on this round, and she found herself in an emotional rage, post Malfoy contact. She had really done it this time. What could possible outdo that performance? It was the spilling of her guts, to put it nicely.

Well, she certainly heaved as she ran to the bathroom in afterthought. Tears were the novel addition to her state, however. Her grip on the toilet bowl was relentless as she sobbed uncontrollably. That was the final straw: Hermione Granger was utterly out of control. She dragged her torn self to her bedroom and fell onto her bed covers fully clothed, entering a dreamless, post emotional release, slumber almost instantly.

It must have been quite a few hours later as Hermione awoke to a dusk lit room, her eyelids sore and an overbearing pressure hammering through her head. She groaned in discomfort, in self contempt, in despair, as she covered her face with her hands. Then, she did something so unlike her: she swore. At the top of her lungs, _"Fuck!" _Exhausted sleep overcame her once more.

The second time Hermione awoke, it was to the touch of a soothing hand on her shoulder and a gentle shake.

"Hermione?" It was Harry.

"Hmmm," she murmured in acknowledgement.

"You feeling ok?" He inquired, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Mmm," was her feeble response.

"You had your wards down, so I figured you were awake," he whispered. "I'll leave you rest and we can catch up during the week."

"Ok," she managed, only just registering his presence.

"Maybe you want to get under your covers?"

"Yeah," she dragged, shifting to sit up.

"You sure you're feeling ok? Can I get you anything?" He asked with concern, he eyes searching for her gaze. She avoided looking at him.

"Uhm, maybe some water, painkillers, and maybe a sleeping potion I have in the kitchen," she grumbled. She did not want to leave her bed.

"Be right back," he encouraged. She sat there, blank.

Harry walked back into the bedroom with her requests, frowning upon observing that she hadn't moved. Her eyes were glazed over and puffy. He rushed to offer her the much needed tablets. She accepted robotically: tablets on tongue; glass to lips: drink, swallow. Repeat for sleeping potion sculled from the vial. She still hadn't looked at him.

"Do you have comfortable clothes you can get into?" He asked, trying to be helpful.

"I guess I should change," she responded croakily looking down at her jeans. Hermione moved off the bed reluctantly and headed to the bathroom, re-appearing wearing a tank top and cotton pyjama bottoms. Harry lifted the covers of her bed and she slid under them, turning to her side, in the ever comforting foetal position. He covered her snugly, kissing her cheek.

"Get some rest. Looks like you've run yourself down," he observed. She nodded her head in response before the sleeping potion set it. And so, once again, Hermione entered her newly preferred altered state of consciousness.

ooo

Sunday marked the recovery of a second eventful weekend. However, there was no recourse in immersing oneself in chick flicks. Hermione Granger awoke with a newfound enthusiasm. She hadn't been for a jog all week and that was the very first thing she did.

Apparating discreetly to the lovely Regent's park, she jogged through the rose gardens, stopping occasionally when one particular variety took her breath away, and continued on unleashing the built up tension as her lungs filled with the crisp morning air. She returned home, withdrawing to a relaxing bath amongst perfumed candles, reminding her of the rose gardens, as she meditated, attempting to clear her mind of its unease.

There was little attempt to revisit yesterday's events in her mind. She was too weak, and the thought made her instantly pale. She had no idea how Malfoy had reacted to her sudden outcry, and frankly, she didn't want to know. If there was ever a time when she desired to turn back the clock, the moment in the study definitely made the top of her list. She wished for a time-turner. Dressed and making a sandwich in the kitchen, she heard the _crack_ that signalled someone had apparated into her apartment. Harry must've returned; he was the only one who knew her wards were down.

"Hi," she heard a familiar voice at the archway of her kitchen. She spun herself around, not sure if she had heard correctly, only to have her fears confirmed by the presence of a pair of grey eyes fixed on her. Her breath hitched, and she was certain her horror at his presence did not go unnoticed.

"What are _you_ doing here?" her voice quivered. She leaned against the kitchen bench, her elbows back as her hands gripped the edge for comfort.

"Spur of the moment decision," he shrugged, his eyes scanning the room before reverting back to her. He was still; she could see he was just as confused about being there, a slight uncertainty he failed to conceal emanated from his stance. Hermione could not believe what was happening.

"Haven't you heard of an owl?" she bitterly asked. "Instead, you just _invite_ yourself over? How did you know where to go?"

"I checked the floo network for 'Granger residence'," he admitted, his tone flat, as if he were anticipating her reaction.

"Oh," was all she could manage in recollection.

They stood there in silence. She felt exposed: Malfoy was in her home, she was scantily dressed in shorts and a singlet, and she had nothing to say to him. Not now, not ever. She had extinguished all reliance on words.

"Well, are you going to at least offer me a drink?" he asked, trying to break the silence, it seemed he had decided it was fine to reflect the mirth in his voice. Malfoy was one to easily find comfort in situations.

"What do you drink?" she asked absently,

"Champagne," he stated matter-of-factly. They remained unmoved for a moment longer before Hermione suddenly burst out in laughter, moving her arms across her stomach to control it, only finding it a hapless attempt. She was laughing so hard: for the ridiculousness of the situation; for her lack of control; for the irony of it all; and mostly, for the sheer fact that he thought it amusing. When she finally managed to compose herself, Hermione looked up at him, her eyes teary from her fit, to see him smiling. It was the same smile she had seen that day in Dixon's office, the one that wasn't directed at her. Her heart began to beat faster, a new reaction to Malfoy's presence.

"I'm out of champagne," she responded in more jest then seriousness. It was his turn to laugh. The room circulated with an electrifying energy that she felt through to her toes, as the silkiness of his baritone overthrew the thumping sound of her heart that had filled her head. He stopped and stood staring her, regarding her like she was a puzzle to be solved. She crossed her arms over her chest protectively, not knowing what to say, because anything she would open with would inevitably lead to yesterday.

"Right then," he leaned against the art deco timber of the archway, "coffee it is."

Hermione nodded, and moved to the espresso machine her parents had given her. She busied herself, trying to forget that Malfoy was in her kitchen. She heard his footsteps approach her.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he stood next to her, watching her. He smelt of cinnamon and spice.

"You wanted coffee, didn't you?" she said, confused at why he was questioning the obvious.

"I never said I wanted you to make it." She stopped what she was doing and glared at him.

"Coffee is not something I can just conjure with the spell Malfoy, not the way I like it anyway," she snapped. He placed his hand on her arm. She was taken aback by the sudden gesture. Her heart started to race again, and she narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance.

"Let's go out for coffee…and maybe some lunch," he suggested, raising his eyebrows toward her half-made sandwich. She followed his gaze to her attempt at food preparation, before removing her arm from his hold.

"What makes you think I want to go out for lunch? And, with _you_?" she cried with vehemence. "Malfoy, what the hell are you doing here?" She was no longer able to control her self, stepping away from him to distance herself from his intoxicating smell.

He was quiet for a moment, looking down, focusing on something. She followed his gaze to her bare feet. She sighed in frustration. "Malfoy!"

The first smirk of the day presented itself but his gaze did not budge. Instead, he moved toward her, and with two swift strides he was directly in front of her, his head at the same angle looking down, but with the close of distance, his focus landing on her face.

"You distract me" he simply said, his voice husky, his eyes dark – a liquid mercury. She stood unmoved. My, how the tables had turned, and how unfortunate that it was in the comfort of her home.

She narrowed her eyes in defiance, "Are you mocking me, Malfoy?" He had the audacity to smile again.

"Shut-up, Granger," he teased.

"Excuse - ," but she never finished, as her system was shocked by the sudden presence of his lips on hers. They were surprisingly gentle and soft as they remained locked with hers. She stood there, beginning to process what was happening but as soon as it had started it was over. He had pulled away, looking at her expectantly. Her eyes widened at the realisation that Malfoy has just kissed her to shut her up.

"How dare you!" She yelled, grappling with her disbelief that he could be so rude. He just raised his brows in confusion.

"What the hell are you on about Granger? It was just a kiss!" he bellowed.

"You kissed me to shut me up!"

"What!"

"You are unbelievable!"

"Granger, have you lost all sensibility? If you think that's my attempt to shut you up, then you are sorely mistaken!" She could see the rage building but was blinded by her own. The next thing she knew, he was kissing her again, this time with vigour, with passion, as he pushed her back into the bench, his hands trapping her as they gripped the benchtop on either side. She responded with equal fervour, their movements becoming more hurried and consuming as his lips demanded hers to open and his tongue commanded entry into her mouth. She let it, succumbing to his exploration. Her hands grabbed the bench, elbows back as he moved closer, chests colliding. Their breathing became heavier, as their kissing became deeper and more heated. She fought his tongue out of her mouth and moved hers into his, eliciting a moan from him as his hands moved to her waist. She rested her hands on his chest, beginning to register what was going on as she tried to push him off. She gripped his shirt into her balled hands and shoved, breaking contact.

They were both breathing loundly; the air around them was stifling. He leaned forward, resting his forehead with hers.

"That… was to shut you up," he managed between pants, annoyance in his voice that she couldn't understand. She shoved her hands into his chest again in an attempt to excape contact completely, trying to catch her own breath in the meantime. He obliged, grabbing her wrists, removing her hands from the grasp of his shirt as he stepped away. Hermione was irate – with herself, with _him._

"I think I should go. Sorry to intrude, I don't know what I was thinking," He broke the silence. She was the first to move to look at him, his expression once again notoriously inscrutable. She nodded in agreement. He walked out of the kitchen, leaving her standing there consumed by her thoughts, so much so, she did not even here the _crack_ marking his departure.

It was a good ten minutes before Hermione moved from her current spot. 'What the hell had just happened?' she thought, her brain would haemorrhage if she even tried to make sense of her life at the moment. This newfound lack of control was unyielding. Draco Malfoy had come to her home, catalysed a series of extreme reactions, asked her out to lunch, albeit indirectly, and then kissed her because she wouldn't shut up. Well that was certainly a new addition to their interaction. To top it off, she had kissed him back, her feelings from the night of the ball flooding back. She laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

After what she had said to embarrass herself at Ron's, nothing compared to how consumed she felt by the proceeding events. Not only did Malfoy distract her when she was physically around him, he was now a definitive permanent fixture in her mind and it appeared that he felt the same way. He was _distracted_ by _her_. Hermione Granger was baffled. Draco Malfoy suddenly amused her.

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	10. Gravity defying exchanges

**Dislaimer once again relevant here! **

**A/N: A little bit of a delay posting this - reality got the better of me over the last week or so. Hope no patience was lost! Look forward to your reviews - it is the 10th chapter after all. :p**

**Chapter 10**

Hermione was in her office when Daria rushed in, a look of distress on her face.

"Sorry to interrupt, but the Minister has requested a meeting." Hermione looked up at her surprised. What on earth would warrant such an impromptu meeting? Usually, she was the one requesting them.

"Do you know what it's about? I don't know if I should prepare something." Hermione was baffled.

"No, the memo just said, 'The Director of Muggle Relations is requested to present herself to the Minister's office at 2pm'," she read. The clock on her desk clicked over to 1:58.

"Shit!"

"I know! I am going to kill Percy!" Daria reassured looking apologetic. Hermione grabbed her official robes and rushed out, putting them on as she reached the closing cages of the nearby lifts.

"Hold the lift please!" she called out. She saw a hand intercept the closing doors, as it held on to the right side. Hermione rushed in, relieved to save even a smidgen of time.

"Thanks!" she breathed as she tried to compose herself.

"Anytime, Granger." She looked up into the silver orbs of her permanent distraction.

"Malfoy!" Murphy had made reappearance, it seemed. He merely shrugged, a half hearted attempt at concealing his dissatisfaction at exercising common courtesy, only to have it blow up in his face at the presence of the one person that they each wanted to avoid. She exercised control not to stare, for her mind was being disloyal and flashed the recent memory of the kitchen incident. She closed her eyes to mentally readjust.

"Uhm, what brings you to the Ministry?"

"Meeting," he really was a man of few words when he chose to be. She scoffed in annoyance.

"Might I ask with whom might this meeting be?" She inquired, her tone reflecting her distaste at the current circumstances.

"You of course, and the Minister." He eyed her reaction. Her breathing stopped: she was drowning.

"Then I can safely assume what it will be about?"

"Don't hold your breath," his pun did not go unnoticed, "I received the message this morning. I _expected_ you would _know_ what it was about, but it seems the upper echelons of this fine establishment lack communication at the best of times. I feel reassured knowing that the private sector is not doomed to eternal damnation." Malfoy being a prick certainly did not go unnoticed by Hermione. She just glared at him silently, turning to face the front of the lift, fuming for the very reason so eloquently put by Mr Private Sector.

They cage doors rattled open signalling their arrival. Hermione exited first, dodging a school of inter-office memos rushing past her. Pretending as if Malfoy was not in fact walking close behind, she hurried to the uniquely hexagonal office of the Minister. She walked past Percy's desk, purposely snubbing him and knocked on the door before entering.

"Ah, Miss Granger, glad you could make it on such short notice." He was smiling warmly, for he knew that no one missed a meeting at the Minister's request. Hermione just feigned acquiescence with a gracious smile, reserved only to please the Minister.

"Mister Malfoy, welcome, welcome," he proceeded to usher them both to the large wing chairs flanking the elaborate fireplace that occupied one sixth of the walls. Hermione sat, eyes glued to the carved marble figures that shaped the full height of the hearth. The unique colouring of the pink and green marble always drew in her attention. Malfoy sat next to her and the Minister opposite, facing them both.

"And, how are you both today?" The hearth erupted with bright blue flames, re-adjusting the room temperature to a relaxed quality.

"Very well, thankyou Minister," Malfoy had conveniently found his ability to be polite and assertive. He sat with his fingers locked as his elbows leaned on the arm rests.

"Well thankyou." Hermione's response just did not compare.

"Good, good," It was a habit of his to repeat single words. "As you are aware Miss Granger, I regularly meet with the Muggle Prime Minister, now that he is used to the idea, and we have proceeded to establish a working relationship. Just yesterday we convened and I happened to mention your magazine, which he seemed very pleased about and would like to receive a copy." he smiled eagerly at the developments. "Although, we would of course require each issue to go through our security check so that it will be charmed for his eyes only," he added as an afterthought, furrowing his brow at the novel realisation.

"I am very happy to hear that Minister," Hermione was silently patting herself on the back while inwardly sulking at the ancillary issue of the Ministry's budget that had caused her much grief.

"It is excellent, yes, yes." He reflected. "Now, I understand, Mr Malfoy has shown interest in your magazine?"

She wanted to say, 'if you mean monetary interest, then certainly' but bit her tongue in lieu of her company. She could not be rash in front of the Minister, how unprofessional of her. Especially since Malfoy seemed to be setting the bar on what would otherwise be her scaling system. She nodded, and proceeded to add, "I believe Mr Malfoy has been considering a new avenue for advertising," keeping it vague. Let Mr Malfoy do the dirty work he excels in.

"So I've heard. Mr Dixon kindly debriefed me on your interests in seeking advertising space in our publications?"

"Indeed, Minister. It is something we have been pushing for. It would be a means to get around the private funding policy the Ministry follows through an avenue that promotes the Ministry's interests. Of course, the position we would be in by securing this opportunity would be most advantageous too, I will not deny that." He smiled so self- assured by his pitch that the Minister could only chuckle at his finishing remark. Hermione just seemed stunned by it all, steeling a glance over at Malfoy, trying desperately to hide her awe but he just winked at her as the Minister moved to his desk, still chuckling. '_Unbelievable'_, she thought. Malfoy amusing the Minister? The earth had unhinged from its axis and was toppling over on its side like a spinning top calling it quits.

Hermione uncrossed her legs and re-crossed them the opposite way, clearly a sign of her nervousness, as she smoothed her hand over her skirt and sat up straighter, all the while knowing that Malfoy was eyeing her. Shuffling away at his desk the Minister returned with a file, placing it on the coffee table before them.

"Very well put Mr Malfoy. While the policy for private funding can be cumbersome it serves a purpose to avoid the corruption that once existed. However, as you know, your excellent proposal will mean that Miss Granger can continue to publish a fine journal on a monthly basis, and perhaps allow her department to engage in other activities too."

Hermione knew what was happening and was defenceless to stop it. The battle on this round was clearly going to be won by Mr Private Sector. She sighed quietly, hunching her shoulders in defeat, and leaned back into the armchair. May as well get comfortable, she decided.

The Minister adjusted the sleaves of his royal purple robes, which kept falling over his hands as he opened the file, and pulled out two parchments. "Now, we have already prepared the contract, Mr Malfoy, if you would both like to read over it. You do have time to negotiate of course so don't feel rushed into signing it today." He passed them a copy each. "Basically, the Ministry agrees to grant Malfoy Corporation up to 20 pages of advertising space per month in _Understanding Muggles _for the fee assigned, and allows for your sponsorship of numerous events at the discretion of Hermione Granger. I hope you will find it satisfactory," his eyes twinkled with anticipation.

Hermione's ears perked up at the last part. She had discretion over sponsorship of events? Now that certainly was an interesting inclusion. She picked up the parchment and started to read over the terms.

"Minister, if I may be allowed to take this away and send it to you tomorrow? That would allow me to read over it. Should we request any amendments I will notify your legal department beforehand." Malfoy requested.

"Of course, of course," the Minister nodded, smiling knowingly at the prudence being exercised by Malfoy. Hermione didn't mind though, she could properly sift through the contents later tonight when her mind seemed to function more inquisitively. The Minister rose from his seat, signalling the end of the meeting. "An owl will be sufficient; you and Miss Granger can discuss any further arrangements. I anticipate that we will have Malfoy Corporation involved in the Ministry in a more transparent manner and I find this whole arrangement very pleasing," he extended his hand to shake Malfoy's, who obliged. Hermione was perhaps the only one to notice Malfoy's slight frown at the Minister's last comment. He had a habit of cleverly referring to the past and reserved no room for comment from the other party. She rejoiced in the fact that Malfoy could not defend the Malfoy name on that point. The Minister gently took Hermione's hand, giving it a squeeze of reassurance that this whole arrangement would work in her favour. Her nerves relaxed at the gesture and she felt at ease by the subtle hint that the Minister had considered her personal interests regardless of the outcome.

Hermione quietly followed behind Malfoy as they left the office. "Percy," she acknowledged curtly as she walked passed his desk. They made their way over to the lifts, her eyes focused on his shiny black leather shoes as they hit the floor in a hypnotic rhythm. He was the first to break the silence.

"Funny how things work out Granger," he reflected, "Saved by the Minister's decisions. You get away with keeping your pride, I get what I want, and to top it off the Minister is happy _and_ you're magazine is saved. Everybody wins," his chuckle contained a hint of disbelief mixed with his usual derisive undertone.

"Well, now that _everybody_ is happy, do you mind moving so I can get into the lift," Hermione replied as the cage doors welcomed them. She pushed past him and marched in.

"Ah, Granger, always with the attitude," he taunted, shaking his finger at her and clicking his tongue as if he were reprimanding a child for misbehaving. Amongst other things, spending time with Malfoy and that annoying Carla in a professional setting was going to be the killjoy of her career. She sighed loudly. His eyes bore into hers, amused at her childish reaction.

"It's OK Granger, I'm sure Dixon can baby sit you at our meetings."

This only served to rile her and he knew it. "Malfoy, lets not jump too far ahead, I have no intention of _meeting _with you or your employees. Ever heard of owls, or the floo?"

Malfoy pulled out the parchment and scanned through it, his eyes resting near the bottom. "Here we go, Clause 10.1, 'The Director of Muggle Relations shall meet with an assigned employee from Malfoy Corporation bi-monthly to ensure timely publication of _Understanding Muggles_ at the satisfaction of both parties, and discuss any other matters pertaining to this agreement.' He smirked at her with satisfaction.

"That can be amended Malfoy."

"Clause 10.2, 'Clause 10.1 cannot be removed from this agreement without the approval of the Minister or his representative upon the request of any party.' Seems the Minister is cleverer than we anticipated. How does he do it?" Malfoy was chuckling at his own joke and Hermione could not help but smile slightly at the Minister's precision.

"Right Malfoy. You seem to have all the answers today." She resigned herself to take the road of least resistance; he had an answer for everything.

"My, my, Granger, giving up on me already?" He closed the distance between them and Hermione felt their shoulders touch. She turned her head, raising her eyebrows to signal her dislike of their close proximity. After all, it only served to remind her things she had been trying to pretend had never happened.

"Well, I am sick of being on the defensive with you." She simple put to him. He smirked at her in response, remaining unmoved. "Secure a fortnightly meeting time with my secretary and we'll go from there," she finished matter-of-factly. The lift rattled to a stop signalling her floor and she stepped forward awaiting the cage doors to release her.

A few people were waiting to enter the lift as she began to step out. The next moment, Malfoy had pulled her back in, pressed to button for the doors to shut announcing, "Sorry, wrong floor," smiling apologetically to those waiting as the doors re-shut. He pushed Hermione against the back wall of the lift, blocking her movement. Confused by the suddenness of the situation and by this new found compromising position, Hermione was in no mood for exercising restraint.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped, as she shoved her hands against his solid chest with impatience. The fine blend of his suit did not go unnoticed by her palms as she struggled against his hold.

"You weren't going to leave me on that note, Granger. You should be a little more accommodating to your new working partner." His face was serious yet he appeared conflicted. There was a hint of uncertainty present that Hermione was not accustomed to sensing from him.

"Malfoy, I don't think man handling me in a lift is a good start to our working relationship, wouldn't you say?" she pointed. He released her instantly, a frown crossing over his face. They stood facing each other silently.

"Uhm, I'm not big on confined spaces, do you mind if we get out of the lift?" Hermione spoke hesitantly, too quietly even, like she needed to ask his permission.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I came to your house Granger?" he replied, his voice mimicking her almost whisper, drawing out a huskiness that contradicted his imposing demeanour. So, that was what was on his mind, she realised.

"Do you want me to?" She eyed him curiously, worryingly.

"Since when do you hesitate to ask?"

Hermione pondered for a moment. "Since I've decided it doesn't matter." There was no chance in hell she wanted to enter into a discussion about his reaction to her self proclamation. This seemed to stop him dead in his tracks, clearing the uncertainty that had suddenly clouded his mind. He pulled back, stepping away from her. Her gaze drifted to his lips and she hoped he didn't notice. The nature of their environment did not serve to halt her flashback of his lips on hers. She quickly looked away, over his shoulder, anywhere but his face. This was a defining moment, she conceded, if nothing was said that would be the end of it. Suddenly, Hermione was not so sure of anything.

Malfoy turned away, and moved to press the lift doors to open. Hermione rushed to stop him, her hand grabbing his, using his finger to press the button to a floor 10 levels above them; she needed more time. Perplexity and an amused anticipation spread across his face as the lift started to move. If she was going to be rash, now was her time. His hand still in her grasp, she shoved him against the lift wall.

"Careful Granger," he mocked, "One might get the impression you're up to something sinister."

"Shut-up Malfoy," she responded as she leaned in, unbeknownst to her scolding conscience, tilting her head to let her lips meet his, her body submitting to the feeling of his perfect lips and slight stubble. His body hitched in surprise and she felt his lips form a smile around her mouth as he responded to her initiations. She bit on his bottom lip gently, allowing her tongue to tease over it as he welcomed her demands. His hands moved down to her lower back, resting on her hips as she moved hers around his neck, allowing her fingers to grab hold of the ends of his hair as they locked together around him. Time seemed to stop, despite the upward motion of the lift which only served to heighten their state of mind, as their heavy breathing served to limit the oxygen in the confined space. They continued, locked in their embrace, their attention on the heated movements of their mouths moving in unison, pleasuring their senses, as a new found charge surrounded them.

The lift stopped signalling their arrival to the floor of a fruitless destination. They broke apart at the sound of the chime. There was no way she was going back down in a lift with him now. Removing her hands from the intimate position around his neck, her eyes still on his, as she registered a new found emotion apparent in his gaze that she was certain was sparked by this exchange.

"I guess we're even now. There is nothing further to discuss other than business," she stated, more for her benefit really. Still leaning against the lift wall, Malfoy merely smirked back at her, readjusting his suit jacket, silence being his modus operandi on this occasion.

She needed to remove herself from his presence. "I'll get the next lift," she said, stepping out, turning to face him as the doors shut. She might have reached an accord on one side of her conscience that she and Malfoy were vis-à-vis on their intimate initiations, serving to mark the end of it, but her realistic half was seriously worried about just how complicated things between them had become. She resigned to taking the stairs, in fear of running in to him.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


	11. The greater good

**Disclaimer: It is a well known fact that J.K Rowling is the owner of Harry Potter. **

**A/N: I believe a little slice of Draco's mind is in order...**

Chapter 11

Draco found himself alone in the lift, in both a mental and physical standstill for about ten seconds, before it ceremoniously returned to life, beginning it's descent to a requested floor. Coming to his senses, he hit the button for the ground floor with a view to escape the Ministry as soon as possible. He certainly wouldn't have such an innocent regard for the confines of the lift space any longer. Who knew that Granger had it in her to pounce on him within the Ministry's walls? Draco did the only thing he could do to let it all out, he laughed in disbelief, his voice reverberating around him. There was no doubt it had evened out their tactlessness around each other. Draco was still cringing at the fact that he had weakened to the point of showing up at Granger's house the day after such a delightful broadcast of emotions she had inflicted on him at the Weasley's. He had spent the better part of that evening trying to make sense of it all. He had come to realise that her easily exuded defensive façade supported the walls of a highly intricate conundrum that was Granger's self destructive conscience.

The words churned through his mind repeatedly, to the point where he could not be distracted by anythings else. Not even by Carla's advances, or the bottle of firewhiskey he was demolishing far too quickly were up to the job. Carla had left in a huff, clearly exasperated by his extreme show of affection to a total disregard for her presence all in one day. _'I don't like that I was an emotional wreck in front of you at the ball, or that you put me in that state in the first place' _was the first thing that struck him as strange. Sure, he knew she was embarrassed about the whole thing, but he was simply baffled by why it was him that had made her drink. They hadn't run into each other all night! In fact, in recollection, he and Granger had not spoken in years. He had seen at a few events now and then, but they barely interacted. Thinking back, most recently he had noticed her at one of Potter's team games in the VIP box, just after he had announced his sponsorship. The longest civil conversation they'd had was that day in the café when he handed her the folder of information. And, that was _after_ the whole ordeal. Draco took another swig of his drink, heavily placing the empty tumbler on table beside him. He stood and walked over to the fireplace, the flames catching his attention as his elbow rested on the mantle.

That he made her feel '_insecure'_ perplexed him even more. He knew she was uncomfortable around him because he possessed an undeniable ability to push her buttons, but insecure was a whole other notion. Since when did Granger give a damn what he thought? If there was one person he could name that portrayed confidence and self-assurance, it was Granger. Even so, the indefatigable thought that continued to plague his mind was her admission that _he_ distracted _her_. Since the ball, she had been the very instrument of his distraction and uncertainty, too. For her to feel the same way led him to conclude that there was no explanation other than that, on some level, Granger was attracted to him.

He had decided that there was no point on dwindling on his thoughts. He would never reach a point of clarity unless he confronted her. And, upon this self revelation, Draco had decided to turn up to Granger's house, unannounced and ignorant of any impeding wards, in an attempt to resolve this whole issue so they could get on with business. In hindsight, that had proved a futile attempt, for it had only made things more complicated and left him feeling annoyed that he, in turn, had announced something about his personal dilemma to her. He had told her that _she_ distracted _him. _What's more, in his frustration with her, he had kissed her before abruptly leaving to save himself further confusion. The intimacy of their kiss irked him. After all, it had happened in her kitchen, she was wearing clothing only someone who knew her closely would see her in, and she had kissed him back. If his body had reflected his mental torment, the contusions would be unfathomable.

The lift reached a standstill as the cage doors opened on him for the last time that day and Draco disembarked from the tainted territory. He was certain that all his future use of any lift would be associated with the thought of Granger, and her terribly satisfying lips. He left the Ministry, resolved to go on with business and agree with her that they were even, for now. He could move on from all this nonsense and distraction, and deal with her as a business partner. The issue now was that he could not send Carla to these meetings, for it would appear as though he was backing down, distancing himself, and that was just not something he did. He would have to take on this whole Ministry arrangement himself. By default, Draco would be taking on more work. He scowled with dissatisfaction at the whole state of affairs as he left the Ministry.

ooo

The week progressed uneventfully in comparison, and Draco had avoided the Ministry save for signing off the contract and owling it to the Minister. Carla had been impressed by his success to secure the deal but he could tell she was displeased by the fact that he was the one who was going to be putting in the face-to-face time at the Ministry.

"Draco, don't you think this is something I should handle since it falls under my portfolio?"

"C'mon Carla, I'm not trying to steal your thunder here, everyone on the board knows it was you who came up with the whole thing and arranged the initial meeting," he tried to reassure. There was no way he was going to let up that there was a personal agenda at stake.

"So, are you implying you don't trust me to make a success of it, that my skills go as far as it being a great idea?" She was pushing his buttons, how was he going to get her off his case?

"That is definitely _not_ what I'm saying. Why are you reading into this? You and your team will be preparing all the material and adverts; I'm only the front man. I just think I'll have more influence over there and get what we want with a little more ease." He was definitely digging himself into a hole.

"So, now I can't handle Hermione Granger? I am a woman in a high position, Draco. I am exactly on her level and I know how to negotiate and agree on matters. I think that comes with the territory," she admonished, hands on hips. She was flustered by his sudden display of chauvinism. He knew it would appear that way, but he was adamant with himself that he had to do it.

Draco sauntered over to her, taking hold of her hands from her hips and kissing her gently. It was a pathetic attempt to calm her, and he knew it. "I'm not doubting your abilities, Carla, or trying to pigeon hole you. You are the best at what you do, that is why you are on the board. Don't treat this as a personal attack. Granger didn't exactly agree to this, you know. It was the Minister's decision, so she is not going to play nice," he responded, circling his thumb over her hands in a soothing fashion. Her face softened and a wave of relief overcame him.

"Why do you call her Granger?" she queried, digressing. He was surprised by her question.

"I've always called her Granger. She calls me Malfoy. It's an unspoken agreement," he offered, shrugging nonchalantly since he had never really thought about it. Carla gave him a thoughtful look, before returning back to the topic at hand.

"I want to come to the meetings, too. I think I should be there," she stated decisively. Draco stiffened at the thought, inwardly cringing at the idea of being in the same room with both women. It's not like his relationship, or whatever one could call it, with Carla was exclusive but it would be awkward for him. He stood silently for a moment; a sudden realisation came to mind.

"Aren't you going to Paris this week to oversee the muggle project?" he eagerly suggested.

"Yes, why?"

"Well, the first meeting with Granger is on Friday. I can't reschedule either; you know Ministry bureaucracy and all that. I have to go through ten people to get to the source," he was lying through his teeth but he couldn't stop. He had to meet with Granger on his own the first time round. Now, all he had to do was secure a meeting for Friday. Surely that couldn't be so difficult?

"I'm sure you can re-schedule for next week?" she regarded him carefully. He knew what she was thinking. Since when is Malfoy the one unable to call the shots?

"The meetings are bi-monthly so it would run into the next month. Not possible," he reassured her, and himself. She seemed to accept that answer.

"Well, in that case, I'll just have to come to the next one. I'm sure you can handle it," she teased, as she pushed him against the sofa and a nice diversion from his unyielding distraction ensued.

ooo

The first thing Draco did when he reached his office the next morning was owl Granger's office. He expected that her secretary would be one of the best at the Ministry, knowing that she wouldn't stand for anything less, so he anticipated a prompt response as he drank his espresso while looking out his office window at the ant sized pedestrians on the streets below. He had not been pressing in his intent to meet the same week, knowing Granger, she would immediately say 'no' if he came across too forward and demanding. Despite his success at the hands of the Minister, Draco still had to deal with Hermione's reluctance, which hinted at the potential calamity that could erupt from their new business relationship.

A knock at the door broke the silence of his office. Draco looked up to see his assistant, Mac, also known as, Mackenzie Proctor, enter and strut over to his desk. That was one of the reasons he was hired. He showed no signs of stress. In fact, Mac was so blasé about things that even Draco relaxed around him. Not that he was lazy, his efficiency certainly contradicted his demeanour, yet the only thing that fazed him was the quidditch ladder. Mac was a young Slytherin pureblood just out of Hogwarts, the son of one of the other directors. He had been hired to replace Draco's female predecessor who had developed an unhealthy obsession with Draco following a one night tryst as a result of too many drinks at the last Christmas party. Despite the obvious nepotism, Draco had been desperate for a replacement to sort out the vindictive aftermath of ad hoc filing, sabotaged reports and such other administrative messes that materialised after his acknowledgment that it had been a mistake and he should not have engaged in inappropriate relations with employees. She had not taken it too lightly, he realised, even though she had apparently held the same view when he had approached her about it. His ability to read people had clearly evaded him on that occasion.

"What's up Draco? I have a message from the department of muggle relations," he drawled, sinking into one of the chairs opposite Draco reserved for clients and colleague meetings. Draco could only chuckle at Mac's positive indifference to office protocol. It was like having a kid brother around, but one that actually followed orders when needed. Draco understood the Slytherin attitude one possessed just out of school, he knew Mac would grow out of it eventually; the absence of war would make it a slower process. 'Lucky bastard,' he thought.

"I suppose you're going to tell me what it says then?" he leaned back in his chair, clicking his pen anxiously.

"Says here that Miss Granger is free to meet Friday morning. She will be at the local till midday. Any idea what _the_ _local_ might be?" Mac furrowed at the ambiguity of a message coming from the Ministry.

So, Granger wanted to meet in neutral territory, away from her office? Draco smirked at the power trip. "Yeah, I know. Thanks Mac. Ask Miss Crowe's assistant to prepare the portfolio for presentation. I want it by Thursday arvo." Mac nodded.

"So, what's Miss _Granger _like? The Professors wouldn't shut up about her at school. Some of the Slytherin guys say she's hot."

"She's the Director of Muggle Relations, not some piece of arse. Now, get out!" He half joked, half admonished.

"Sorry, Draco," he mumbled, before grinning and strolling out of the room. Draco swivelled his chair around to face the window. He shook his head as the thought of Granger's obsessive need to be quid pro quo on everything, even to the point where he knew she would pay for the coffee this time. He then chuckled at the thought of a bunch of Slytherins talking about how '_hot'_ she was. That certainly wasn't the word associated with her during his time at Hogwarts. Sure, Granger's attractiveness was undeniable, but everything else about her made it hard to focus on that alone.

ooo

The rain poured relentlessly as Draco sat inside the café behind Flourish & Blotts, perusing over his documents while waiting for Granger to arrive. He had chosen to sit in the same spot they had found themselves previously; however, he occupied the wing chair facing the entrance to keep an eye out for her. The door chimed signalling the arrival of a patron. He looked up to see Granger, hair wet, flustered and displeased. She cast a drying charm over herself, but her hair still sat matted and framing her face. It would take a bit more effort than one charm to dry and tame such thick hair. Draco could easily let slip a snide remark but if he was going to be professional, he had to maintain focus. She looked up, catching his gaze, catching him staring. A brief flash of the lift incident came to mind. Surprised at letting his guard down, he quickly hid it by nodding his head in acknowledgement. She walked over, her heels tapping on the floorboards.

"Hello Malfoy," she opened in a non-committal tone. She sat down, placing her folio and the familiar daily planner on the table, sitting back distractedly as she combed her fingers through her hair, freeing it from the contact of her face and moving the lot of it so it fell rather heavily over one shoulder. Draco swallowed, mesmerized by this innocent act.

"Hi Granger. Got caught in the rain?" he observed, scolding himself for stating the obvious. She looked at him like he had grown a second head. A great start to this business relationship.

"Uhm, yeah. Didn't think it would rain until the afternoon," she added. A moment of silence ensued as each waited for the other to jump into old habits. Nothing. "Have you ordered anything?" she proceeded hesitantly.

"No, I just got here, really," he lied. He signalled for the waitress' attention. She walked over swiftly.

"Mr Malfoy, ready to order?" the waitress asked in that pleasant voice reserved for those who actually enjoyed working in customer service and those who served Malfoys.

"Yes, Jacqui. Granger, what are you having?" he asked.

"Flat white, please," she stated, crossing her legs, and unbuttoning her jacket.

"Make that two then," he said and winked at the waitress, eliciting a giggle from the young girl before she walked off to attend to their order. Draco was in control once more, for he did not miss the quiet scoff of a Granger who had noticed.

"So, when is the next issue due to be released?" he started, diverting his gaze back to Granger.

"We are working on a schedule to have each issue out on the last week of the preceding month. So the October issue will be released on the last week of September. That gives us two weeks."

"Two weeks!" he declared. "That is hardly enough time. Where do you stand now?" Granger was a sucker of punishment, he decided.

"Relax, Malfoy. This next issue was prepared weeks ago, thinking we would have had it published by now. We were running the release on the first Wednesday of each month with the old schedule," she reassured, amused by his distress. Since when did Granger tell anyone to relax?

"Alright then, I just didn't think it could be a polished magazine in such a short time." he added. "If we can get this current issue organised by the end of next week, then that gives us a head start on the next issue."

"Exactly, the next issue will give us a better opportunity to properly plan and arrange the adverts so consider this a test run. I asked the Minister for a month interlude to prepare but he did not see eye to eye with me on this. He is set on impressing the PM," she sighed, opening her folder to retrieve a mock up. She extended it to him to take.

Draco flicked through it with interest as the waitress returned with their coffees. He could feel Granger's eyes on him as he focused his attention on the contents. It was, in truth, not the first time he had read an issue but he would never admit that to her. There were articles ranging from technology, social issues, education, to beauty therapy. He had never known that muggle women could change their hair colour.

"Muggle communication devices being embraced by the wizarding world," he read aloud.

"I'm sure you've heard of a mobile, or cell, phone?"

"Yes, I have. Interesting little device." He did not offer the fact that he owned one. He opened his folio to reveal an advertisement for a communications company owned by Malfoy Corporation, handing it to her. "I think this would fit nicely around this article."

They spent the morning examining the mock up, with Draco showing Hermione ad campaigns and providing a background into some of the companies and the work behind the Malfoy name. They sipped on their coffee intermittently, discussing work like they had newly made each others acquaintance. Draco was impressed by the wealth of information the magazine provided, and even offered comments of his own which raised an eyebrow or two from his working partner. In turn, Granger took an interest behind the ads for products and services ranging from curse breakers, permanent glamour, to quidditch sporting gear. She even considered purchasing a particular home ward device that could be charmed to recognise individual wands. Wizarding adverts were far more interesting than those which dominated muggle magazine, being realistic, animated, and interactive – it added a whole new dimension. .

"Well, Granger, I am feeling a little less worried considering how much we've got done this morning," Draco observed, finishing off his second coffee. The result was a more polished, professional journal that could be sold rather than available as a free pick up.

"Seems like it," she reflected. He could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes as she sat still, looking at her coffee cup grasped between both hands. "I think the Minister wants to attach a price to the journal rather than offer it as a Ministry funded serial," she frowned. Draco only expected that would be the inevitable step. Why go to all the effort if you could just print something as a black and white pamphlet? She looked up at him, "I am starting to think that was the plan all along," she sighed, placing her cup down. Draco's mind stirred as he felt an unfamiliar emotion wash over him while he regarded her demeanour. Her hair had dried into thick curls, and was still rather flat as opposed to its natural unruliness. Despite their obvious progress, she seemed – deflated. He almost had the urge to comfort her about it. Instead, he chose to service his highly polished skill of bluntness.

"It's easy to lose foresight when you work within the walls of the beast that is the Ministry. There is always a hidden agenda. I wouldn't have expected you to fall into the trap though, Granger," he stated with amusement. He expected a glare or insult at that in retort. Nothing.

"You're right. I was so into providing something that would be readily available to everyone and now its turning into some money making scheme to impress officials and bring in some petty cash."

"Ease up Granger; you're still pursuing something you're passionate about! People _will_ buy the magazine and it _will_ reach the masses. Goal achieved," he stated matter-of-factly. He could not believe that he had unwillingly resorted to offering reassurance.

"Maybe," she responded meekly, her tone clearly dissatisfied at her realisation. "I have lost my ability to exercise prudence. I got so worked up with you're stupid proposal for ad space; I didn't see the bigger picture. I have no say in the matter now," she seemed to be speaking for her own benefit rather. He sifted his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Whatever, Granger. Don't lose sleep over it. Let's meet at my office to finalise next week. I'll be in touch." He stood up, grabbed his jacket, packed his things and walked out. He was not going to hang around to console or convince the mind of a witch who possessed such an unflagging degree of stubbornness. Granger could be as self-absorbed as he was, he recognised the signs.

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	12. Behind enemy lines

**Disclaimer: I may have mentioned that Harry Potter belongeth to JKR? Well I say it again. Plot mine though! **

**A/N: I bet no one saw this coming? Your thoughts are most welcome! **

Chapter 12

Hermione sat, rattled by her sudden emotional outbreak in front of Malfoy. She had clearly set a trend of behaviour around him that she could not break. Volatile? Erratic? Barmy? All three?

Forget about waiting for the next office meeting. Hermione packed her things and went after Malfoy. She figured he would have returned to his office and apparated there accordingly. The office building was as imposing as any other, undistinguished, and completely muggle looking. In her haste, she hadn't stopped to consider how on earth she would know which level he would be on given that muggles occupied its premises. There would have to be some concealment of the offices of Malfoy Corporation. She entered the imposing foyer and eyed the list of occupants for any sign. There was a listing for _MC_ on level 10; she decided it was a starting point. She reached the lift and hit level 10. Instantly, upon her touch, a button next to it appeared which read 10A. 'How clever,' she thought. The lift recognised her magic charge. She pressed it and waited for her ascent. The lift hummed as it passed through the magic barrier at level 10 and reached its destination. Hermione stepped out, the foyer empty although opulent in its finishes. Two ceiling height glass doors materialised in the wall, welcoming her to Malfoy Corporation, as the lettering, embossed through the glass, indicated. She hesitantly pushed her way through and stepped into a reception area.

The lady at the front desk looked up. "Welcome to Malfoy Corporation, can I help you?" she greeted, flashing her best, and most rehearsed smile. The woman had very nice teeth, perfect for greeting; she would give her that much credit.

Hermione stepped up to the reception counter, made of the finest oak. "Yes, could you direct me to Mr Malfoy's office please?"

"Certainly, if you follow the hallway on your right down to the end and take a left, it will lead you right to his offices." Hermione wondered whether the girl suffered from sore cheeks.

"Thank you," Hermione smile back, feeling obliged to respond to the receptionist's pleasantries. She loved that Malfoy had _'offices'_ rather than just the one. She followed her instructions, admiring the precious, priceless, and certainly expensive, art work and furnishings that lined the hallways along the way. She turned left, making her way to the end where the second hallway opened into a large meeting area, and the location of the assistant, who instantly noticed her and stood.

"Is Mr Malfoy in?" she asked the male PA who eyed her curiously. She was surprised by how young he looked. What amazed her more was the fact that Malfoy's PA was not female.

"Do you have an appointment?" he questioned, like any diligent assistant. She sighed in frustration to be on the receiving end.

"No, I don't have an appointment, but I just had a meeting with him. Tell him it's Hermione Granger," she stated. He raised an eyebrow, smirking. His reaction clearly suggested his Slytherin traits.

"Just a second," he stood and walked through the imposing double doors behind him. She paced the room, competing thoughts entering her mind. Why was she here? What would Malfoy think? What was wrong with her! She shook her head in an attempt to wash the thoughts from her attention. The doors opened, thankfully disrupting her internal battle.

"You can go in,"

"Thanks, uhm?"

"Mac," he offered.

"Thanks, Mac," she smiled as she walked past, through the doors, to uncharted territory.

"Granger, can't get enough of me in one day?" Malfoy started from his position on one of the couches, a tumbler in his hand that obviously contained something alcoholic. Despite his cockiness, the same uncertainty she had recently identified on his face presented itself. "Never thought you'd actually come to my offices, especially so soon after our first meeting," he continued. "I'm surprised you've entered the enemy base quite freely," he observed before bringing the glass to hips lips. She stood silently for a moment, taking in the magnificent size of his office space before turning her attention to him. His eyes were narrowed and regarding her quizzically, their slate hue deepening. "Why are you here Granger?"

"Aren't you going to offer me a drink?" she responded mimicking his initial sarcasm and avoiding his questions. He merely shrugged, stood up and went to the bar to pour her one, confirming that he was sipping on the firewhiskey. She figured she looked silly standing in the middle of his office and decidedly walked over to the couches, sitting on the one opposite his. A rectangular, rustic coffee table with imposing rivets on both ends, and a Persian rug, rested between them. She placed her things down, and sat rather stiffly, still trying to establish why she was here.

"Do you want it chilled?" he asked with his back still to her.

"Yeah, ok." He cast a spell to chill the glass and contents, walking back over to her, reaching past the table between them, the barrier, to hand it to her. She reached over, her hand brushing his as she took hold of the glass. She sipped eagerly, welcoming the soothing burning sensation as the liquid warmed her. Malfoy sat across from her, feet propped up on the coffee table, arm slung over the back of the couch, drink in the other hand, curiosity written all over his face. Hermione's eyes wandered over everything but his face, resting on the soles of his shoes that faced her.

"Mac seems quite young to be your assistant," she remarked, breaking the stillness that had engulfed them.

"C'mon Granger, you didn't come here so we could discuss our assistants," he smirked, sensing her discomfort.

"Just making an observation," she retorted.

"Observe all you like," he dismissed. She scrunched her features in annoyance. "Is there something urgent we didn't cover?" he volunteered. How could he switch so easily from being difficult to civil? He really knew how to keep her on edge.

She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated, and shut it again. She looked over at Malfoy, who had leaned back expectantly. She took a swig of her drink and tried again. "No, not really, I think it's going to be fine. I just wanted to… - I just wanted to apologise for -," she inhaled before continuing, "- for expressing my Ministry grievances. It was unprofessional of me," she finally let out, before exhaling in relief.

He stood, eyeing her rather impatiently. He walked around the barrier and sat at the opposite end of the couch she occupied, sitting on an angle to face her, his left leg bent over the seat. "Granger, you are such a tease, you know that?" he leered.

She looked at him, befuddled, trying to understand. "Actually Malfoy, I _really_ did only come here to apologise for the way I acted earlier, and for calling your proposal stupid. I don't recall mentioning any of those previous incidents."

"Whoever said anything about those _incidents,_ as you so eloquently put it?" he goaded, slightly amused at the progression of their conversation. "Although, I have to say, I don't treat lifts with such indifference theses days," he added leaning forward. She smirked back, frustrated that he had nothing to say about her apology or work related matters.

She finished the rest of her drink in one gulp, and set the tumbler on the table.

"Well then, that's all I wanted to say, so I'll be off," she placed a hand on the seat to lift her self off the sunken couch. His placed his tumbler down, and set his hand over hers in one swift movement; his eyes filled with mirth, yet they were much darker than she had previously noticed.

"Granger, you're in my office, I'll tell you when you're free to go," and with that he leaned across, cradled her cheek with his free hand, and kissed her firmly on the lips. It was brief yet tender and he pulled back slightly, staring at her, as she gaped back at him, stunned. He tasted of firewhiskey, raw and warm. Without breaking her gaze, his hand moved through her hair, he played with her curls, twirling strands around his finger, while his other hand remained rested on hers. His expression changed to one of resignation, "You can go if you like," he continued, as his finger unleased one of the curls, resting on her collar bone, from which he continued his ministrations, tracing along its definition. Hermione remained unmoved, the visible affects of his attention only evident by her shortened breath. She certainly had not expected this, it was too, well, intimate. Something more that lust charged in the air around them. Malfoy leaned in again, hesitating, before his mouth pressed own on her pulse point at the base of her neck, where he sucked gently before pecking, continuing the trail down to the edge of the exposed skin around her shirt that ended in a v-shape just above her cleavage. She inhaled deeply; his hair against her skin was like silk. He lifted his head to face her again, millimetres of space between their lips. He arched his eyebrow at her questioningly, as if to ask, 'why haven't you left yet?' If there was ever a time in her life where indecision was so pronounced in her demeanour, this was it. Hermione was shaking from the sensory overload and internal struggle between mind and body. It did not help that the firewhiskey was clouding her reasoning.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she finally whispered, before closing the gap again. This time, there was no hesitating as Malfoy cupped her face with both hands, and their kiss turned passionate. He leaned forward, pushing her gently back as she reclined, with her head resting on the soft arm rest. Lips locked, Hermione trailed her hands over his broad shoulders and down his arms, feeling the ripples of his firm body that lay beneath his shirt. Malfoy shifted himself so that he was lying on his side, supported by one elbow as he leaned against the back of the couch, half over her as his hand moved from her face over the contours of her body. He traced down the side of her frame, tracing around the side of her right breast, down to the valley of her waist and rising over her hips, before resting his hand on her thigh. She moaned approvingly, bringing both hands to the base of the back of his neck as she combed gently through his blonde tresses, her nails timidly grazing his scalp as she submitted to her mental abandonment.

Malfoy broke the kiss, allowing Hermione to catch her breath as he moved his attention back to her neck, nipping and sucking near and around the tender flesh of her ear, eliciting a giggle amongst her sounds of pleasure. She was very ticklish, unbeknownst to Malfoy, who stopped what he was doing in surprise. He looked at her amused. She merely shrugged, her mouth still smiling from her response. Upon seeing his face widen into a genuine smile that reached his eyes, all doubt and inhibition was lost as she moved her hands over his chest and began to loosen his tie. He turned his attention to the buttons of her blouse, slowly undoing them one by one, not opening her shirt until he reached her navel, where he untucked it from her high waisted skirt. They worked silently, the sound of their breaths filling the room, the smell of his cinnamon cologne, her gardenia perfume and a hint of firewhiskey mixed in the air around them. She lifted her shoulders off the couch to remove his tie, and in turn began to undo his shirt buttons. He pulled her hands away at the third button, slightly frustrated. Malfoy sat up on his knees, untucked his shirt and lifted it over his head, revealing his perfectly defined torso that his clothes only hinted at. She inhaled at the site of him as he leaned over, his bare chest inches from her, and he opened her shirt to reveal her white bra with lace trimming. He slid his hands under her material clad shoulders, sliding the shirt off, down her arms and onto the floor.

Hermione could not help but blush at his attention, as she could feel his eyes boring over her almost bare torso, her chest heaving in anticipation and in breathlessness. His feathery touches along her shoulders certainly did not help, as he gently slid her bra straps off her shoulders, trailing his fingers intently down her arms. She was so taken aback by his soft approach, she wanted to turn him over in sheer impatience and demand more physicality. She moved her arms to lock around his neck, pulling him closer. He obliged and their mouths connected once more. From her end, the lust was building but she could not help but revel in his soft approach that was so different from their previous kisses. His tongue moved expertly in her mouth, gently sliding across her bottom teeth before circling around her tongue, teasingly. She returned the gesture with greater fervour, deepening the kiss. She could feel his arousal now against her hip, as her own body heat was growing with desire.

His hands moved over her breasts, teasing her nipples through the material, before moving down to the waistline of her skirt. He ran his hand along the waistband, looking for the zip, finding it on the side before slowly drawing it down. As his hands moved to tug the skirt, she lift her hips upward, his moan reverberated in their mouths, his tongue growing fierce at the grinding contact. He shifted to pull the skirt down, as she moved her hands to his belt buckle, tugging at it impatiently, and then his zip, feeling his arousal through his trousers.

The intensity was building to rocket proportions; the fact that they were still clad only served to frustrate her as she slid her hand into his boxers, and took hold of his hard length. His breath hitched at the contact and he broke the kiss. Their eyes locked as she stroked him in a slow, rhythmic motion. The skirt halfway down her hips, she tugged it down to her ankles and she kicked off her heels as he slid it off completely. She was certain his eyes mirrored hers; clouded with desire as he ran his hands over her thighs, resting on her panty line. He tucked a finger under, testing her reaction. She only grasped him tighter, increasing the pace of her strokes, as her thumb flicked over the tip of his shaft. He took that as a signal to move more vigorously as he removed her panties in one swift motion.

Hermione moaned as air cooled her exposed skin. He moved her hand away from her hold on him, taking both her hands and placing them above her head. Her bra straps hanging off her shoulders, he pushed her bra down to expose her breasts, taking one of her aroused nipples in his mouth, as he gently brushed over the other. Hermione arched her back toward him approvingly as he worked on her nipple, sucking, nipping, teasing it with his tongue. He moved to the other, the exposure to the air increasing her excitement as it cooled the wetness of his mouth that remained. She could feel the wetness pooling between her thighs in heated response. He continued his ministration on her breasts, as his hand moved over her sex, and his finger slipped between the ready folds. He moaned appreciatively, the reverberation heightening her reactions as he sucked on her. Malfoy moved his finger along her folds down to her opening, teasing at the entry as his thumb found her sensory core, rubbing gently. She entangled her hands in his hair as he continued to tease all her sensory spots, heightening her awareness of the escalating pull building within her. Her nerves were on fire, as he dipped his fingers into her.

"I can't wait…" she whispered in pleasure. He did not retreat, the speed and depth of movement of his fingers increasing. She lifted his head from his attention on her breasts and guided his lips back to hers, showing her appreciation at his ministration, mimicking the movement of his fingers inside her with her tongue. She was not going to last at this rate, and within seconds she was climaxing around him, her mouth still on his, breathing hard, as she bucked up to meet his unrelenting strokes. She could feel his hardness only inches away from her pulsing sex. "Malfoy!," she goaded moving her hand down to take his shaft. He stopped her, chuckling against her neck as he broke the kiss and nestled in his favourite spot, it seemed.

"How do you think I feel, Granger," he whispered against her neck, his baritone voice deep with desire. Hermione moved under him so that he was positioned at her entrance. He groaned in anticipation as his shaft hit her inner thigh, the tip touching her folds. His pants, still on, were not desirable. "Your pants, Malfoy!" she reminded, or rather, insisted. He chuckled again and moved to rid himself of his remaining clothing. She lifted to unclasp her bra completely as he removed his clothing. They regarded each other carefully, as if for the last time, before they submitted to their nakedness and embrace. He leaned back over her, their chests touching satisfyingly. "You sure you want this?" he whispered, as if they needed to reach a verbal accord, in preparation for any aftermath reactions. She nodded, and with that he entered her. They both moaned at the contact.

One again, Malfoy nestled his head in the crook of her neck, keeping still for a moment as they revelled in their most intimate embrace. He began to move within her, deepening his thrusts as she responded to his rhythm, her hands on his shoulders, gripping for support as their skin against the leather of the couch gave away the sounds of their movements. They were muted by their breathlessness, enjoying the concentrated explosion of nerves as she felt the wave of her climax building once more. Malfoy picked up the pace, driving into her, then slowly sliding out, before reversing his motions. It only served to increase her desire tenfold as she peaked. "Granger!" he panted as he reverted back to a single, wanton pace, that brought them both to climax simultaneously, the wave of her senses crashing down as her walls contracted against him as she felt his release. She hoped their sounds were shielded by the walls of the room. They remained locked in their embrace and she was certain he could feel her heart beat against his chest. She ran her fingers through his hair again, a final touch to their contact before she gestured for release. She could hear him breathing against her neck, his rate returning to normal.

"Malfoy?"

"Mmmm?" he lifted his head to look at her. She smiled self-consciously. He took that as signal to move off her. He shifted away and sat up next to her. Hermione was scared to look at him and quickly hurried to put her clothes back on. She turned away, sitting up as they silently re-dressed.

"Are you decent?" she asked not wanting to turn around without knowing. She heard a laugh.

"Yes, Granger, I am decent," he replied, the amusement in his voice evident. She turned hesitantly to face him. They stood staring, an air of disbelief of what had just happened surrounded her. She felt suffocated. What had she done? She needed to leave, albeit a late decision now was more the time to do so than ever. Looking for her shoes, she could see them behind him on the floor. He followed her gaze to her heels. He leaned over and picked them up, walking over to her with her shoes in hand. He smirked at her as he stood before her. "Looking for these?" he quipped. She glared back before she grabbed one, leant her arm on his shoulder as she slid it on, repeating the action for the other shoe. He stood in amusement. "Nice, shoes Granger." She looked at him, his voice was husky, his eyes had that same look they had moments ago in their never to be repeated activity. She regarded him with puzzlement.

"This was a mistake right?" she started.

His expression changed instantly to one of inscrutability. "Granger, it was inevitable," he announced cockily.

"You are such an arrogant arse," she snapped, realising her stupidity at what had just happened. She gathered her things in haste, her back turned to him as she fought back her need to unleash her anger, for it would be at herself, not him. His attitude was not surprising.

"Granger," he pleaded suddenly, almost quietly. She turned abruptly. He walked over to her, lifting his hand to play with her locks. "It was inevitable because I wanted it. And, I know you did too," he whispered before leaning in to kiss her cheek, rendering her speechless. The charge in the air around them returned, she could not face him any more.

She stepped out of his reach and headed to the door, not saying a work but turning to look back at him briefly. Outside his office, she smiled wearily at Mac. "Bye Miss Granger," he said with a sly look on his face. She acknowledged him with a curt nod and continued on her way. She hoped the receptionist wouldn't be at her desk, but that wish went ungranted.

"I trust everything went well with Mr Malfoy?" she chirped.

Hermione mimicked her smile this time, replying, "Just Great," the undertones too vague to be understood.

"Bye then," she heard her reply as Hermione pushed through the heavy glass doors and into the foyer. And, to think the day was only half complete left her feeling quite bewildered.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


	13. A lesson in spontaneity: part one

**A/N: Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. It has been a hectic few weeks, and I just didn't get a chance to sit and finish it sooner! Thanks again for all your reviews!! **

Chapter 13

Hermione sat on her couch, cross legged, contemplating how best to execute her disappearance. She knew she was being melodramatic, but she had limited her options. Having sex with Malfoy, in his office, on his couch, during office hours, with his assistant just outside, made her want to throw herself off a cliff for her spontaneous foolishness. It really was the embodiment of going against every grain of self control that a mature, professional adult usually possessed. At least she hadn't called him _Draco_ in the moment. That really would have driven her over the edge in afterthought. The habit of calling him _Malfoy_ was so ingrained that it was almost innate. It would take her weeks of practice to break that brain connection that had been made concrete after so many years.

In the aftermath, she could smell a mixture of her own sweat and his scent on her skin, and it had proved futile to return to work that afternoon. She called upon Daria to take care of matters, pretending that she would be working from home. Every time she blinked, her body flushed as images of them together flickered under her eyelids. Having sex with Malfoy had stirred a whole new level of subtext that existed between them. Sadly, she had no one to confide in. Not Ron, not Ginny, certainly not her mother, and Harry, well, she did not want to bother him since he was away again. Hermione had just crossed every invisible barrier that she had created during her lifetime almost too willingly, it seemed. So, now what?

Furrowing in despair, she could not help ease her mental disarray and came to the conclusion that she would consult a muggle therapist. Perhaps some professional guidance would provide some clarity? Reluctantly, Hermione rang her mother.

"Hermione! Where have you been, dear? You're the hardest person to reach!" she exclaimed through the telephone.

"Hi mum. I've just been busy, that's all," Hermione reassured.

"You know Maryann's daughter? She just got engaged!"

"That's great, mum," Hermione replied, disinterested. Her mother had this obsession with her best friend's daughter, always managing to make implied comparisons.

"To that Damien fellow, he is such a handsome man, and he owns his own business!"

"That's great, mum." Hermione was on autocue. "Mum, can you tell me the name of that popular therapist Maryann was talking about at your Christmas party?"

"Why do you need that?"

"I want to contact her to ask her a few questions for an article idea I have."

"When am I going to see this magazine you keep talking about, Hermione? You are so involved in your work, do you even socialise?"

Hermione cringed. "Mum! I will send you a copy, ok! Can we discuss this at breakfast tomorrow instead?"

"Well, I'm glad you're not cancelling on me again. Just give me a moment," she put the receiver down and shuffled away. Hermione leaned back on her couch, sighing. Mixing business and pleasure was her current form of socialising, what a mess! The rustling on the other end signalled the return of her vocal mother.

"Okay, here it is dear. Dr Glenys Groves. Is that all you need?"

"Yes, that's fine. I'll look her up." Hermione used her wand to write the name in the air, it hung there, a glistening azure. "Thanks, mum, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Very well, always busy with work, just like your father. He is working on Saturdays now, you know? I told him to shut the surgery on the weekend, but he won't listen!"

Hermione slumped back into the couch; it was always an effort to end phone conversations with her mother. Silently groaning, she did not want to tell her that she was home on a Friday. It would raise all sorts of questions from a mother who considered her daughter a raging workaholic. "Mum, you can't blame him for loving his job. He's doing the community a service. How many people get toothaches on a weekend and have to wait until Monday to have it attended to?"

"There is not need to rationalise, dear. You and you father are workaholics, plain and simple. You don't seem me driving to be in the surgery all week. I have hobbies, social activities. What are you doing these days? Harry is always away, and Ron is married, do you have any friends to go out with, Hermione?" Hermione was silent. "Hermione?"

"Mum, I have to go, okay?" She could hear her mother sigh through the receiver.

"Alright, bye dear," she huffed.

"Bye." Hermione hung up and tossed the hand's free onto the coffee table. She waved her wand to erase the name of Dr Groves in frustration. Who needed a therapist when your mother had just given you a diagnosis? There it was, in a nutshell, Hermione had no social life. She had depended so long on Harry and Ron, but now they were no longer always available. She had failed to make any close girlfriends, other than Ginny, and this had contributed to her current predicament. Everything she did correlated in some way to her work. Hermione Granger was married to her job, and Draco Malfoy was currently fast tracking her divorce.

OOO

Hermione, much to her chagrin, had not stopped thinking about Malfoy, and inevitably, sought the comforts of her office and her work. Her excuse to herself was that she had wasted enough time thinking about the mess that was her life, having taken Friday off to mope about, so, it was okay that she was at the office on a Saturday afternoon to make up for lost time. Really, it balanced itself out, or so she tried to convince herself.

Despite the aftermath of their initial meeting, Hermione conceded that she and Malfoy had worked productively that morning at the café, surprising each other that they could focus on business. Even so, she was frustrated at the Ministry for their roundabout methods and their habits of informing her on a need to know basis. Clearly, being _the_ director of her department was losing its perks. Nevertheless, having mastered her killer work ethic, Hermione efficiently ran through her 'to-do' list, which any normal person would consider rather self-deprecating, with efficiency that left her with the satisfaction she had learned to crave over the years. Without a doubt, her work was an addiction, the pleasure of completing a task, her high.

A knock at her office door, Hermione was startled out of concentration. She looked up to see Lavender Brown standing in her doorway.

"Lavender! Hi! What are you doing here on a Saturday arvo?" Lavender laughed at Hermione's shock.

"I'd ask you the very same thing, although I'm not surprised in your case," she replied. Hermione frowned, before shielding her infuriation at the general consensus with a shrug. "We've had some rather tedious applications for licences. Several of the requests are causing problems, you know, what with all the restrictions and exclusions. It's doing my head in!" Lavender was the associate director for the business licensing department who worked on the same floor. They issued licences to businesses for the use of potentially volatile and difficult forms of magic, as well as exclusive rights for patented charms, potions and the like. Hermione considered it a rather dry area, and smiled apologetically. She could at least empathise with the Ministry's ongoing trial and tribulations.

"Any plans for the evening?" Hermione offered, trying to steer away from discussing her work.

"Yes, actually. A bunch of us are going to that new bar on Diagon Alley. I think it's called 'Blue Diamond', or something diamond, you should come!"

"Uh, thanks for the offer, but I have something on tonight, too." Hermione felt like Lavender was inviting her as a friendly gesture after having revealed her plans. She did not want to impose.

"Oh, come on! It will be great fun. The club opens late, am sure you can come after your previous engagement," she steered. Lavender seemed rather eager with the idea, a pleading look plastered on her face. Hermione felt obliged to say 'yes', and it certainly would help her social life.

"Well, I guess you're right. What time are you expecting to get there?" she conceded.

"I'm meeting Padma and Pavarti at ten. I think Padma is brining her fiancé. Can you believe she is going to marry Blaise Zabini! That was a surprise!" she laughed. "He's actually a great guy, under that Slytherin façade, and hot, too!" she admitted begrudgingly. Hermione chuckled. She briefly wondered whether Blaise's attendance would mean that Malfoy would turn up, but actively extinguished that thought from her head.

"I saw Padma and Blaise recently at Ron's house. They seem really into each other. Are you or Pavarti bringing anyone?" she asked. There was no way Hermione would be a tag along singleton.

"Pavarti just broke up with her boyfriend, so, I am being the loyal 'besty', a beacon of support, and more importantly, a fine drinking buddy. You know I don't do boyfriends. At least, not until I find the right one," she smiled mischievously. Hermione suddenly felt a pang of jealousy in the pit of her stomach.

"Pavarti is lucky to have such a great friend."

"Well, the more drinking buddies, the merrier!" she professed knowingly. "We'll meet out the front. You won't miss the line of people. If you're late, just let them know you're on Lavender Brown's list. See you tonight!" Hermione nodded.

OOO

If one could not recall the last time they had been out to a bar or club that was a sure sign of a lacking social life. Hermione was one such person, as she stood in front of her wardrobe wrapped in a bath towel, exasperated that she possessed nothing befitting a girl who was about to embark on a night out on the town. Her closet was full of work clothes, casual wear, and several ball gowns that were much too formal. If only she had declined Lavender's invitation more vigorously. It was 9pm and she was still standing before her closet, giving the appearance that she was perhaps awaiting the imminent 'ah-ha' moment on what to wear.

Hermione looked over to her evening gowns, her hand grazing over the most recent gown that bore the attachment of particular memories; she decided that her best option was to alter a gown that she was unlikely to wear again. Her eyes fell on the dress she had worn to Ron and Luna's wedding and pulled it out. It was a black floor length gown, with thin spaghetti straps and a horizontal gathered chiffon around the bust that fell to a slight v-shape. It fitted her body around the bust and fell out around her to mid calf. If she shortened it, perhaps it would do. The only problem was, despite her intelligence, Hermione's lack of practice in alteration charms meant that she had repeated the charm a few times before it evenly shortened the length, bringing it to mid-thigh when she had finally got it right. Determined no to try her luck ruining another expensive gown, she had no choice but to overcome her insecurity and wear it.

Standing before the mirror, Hermione hesitated at the exposure of so much leg which was emphasised by her black pleated satin stiletto heels, with a simple strap across her toes and one around the ankle. She had tied her hair into a high ponytail so that her curls were out of her face and in an orderly display that would not be untamed with the assistance of much hairspray. Her lips were red, to contrast the black, and her eyes smudged, not out of skill but in a quick effort to conceal her poor attempt with the eye-pencil. She could not recall ever dressing this way; and yet, it was 9:50 and she did not have time to re-evaluate. Grabbing her purse, Hermione apparated to Diagon Alley, extinguishing any apprehension the mirror had bestowed.

As predicted by Lavender, this was clearly the night to be out as the line to this so called new bar extended around the corner and into the laneway of the locale of her favourite café. Feeling the chill, Hermione was not in a mood to wait in line, and hurriedly scanned the crowd for any sign of Lavender, Pavarti, Padma, and even Blaise. Nothing. Decidedly, she made her way to the front of the queue, ignoring the stares and glares of other intended patrons, and approached the door man. He was a tall, dressed in startling blue robes that remarkably matched his eyes. The diamond logo on his right breast glittered under the moonlight. It certainly was a rather flashy establishment if he sported such an elaborate uniform. Hermione gulped, she he never been one to try and gain entry to a venue using her charm and supposed guest list excuse.

"Excuse me? I believe my friends might already be inside. I'm with Lavender Brown."

The man conjured a list with a wave of his wand and scanned through it. Hermione waited, feeling rather foolish as the people at the front of the line eyed her angrily. She guessed they'd been waiting a while to get to where they were. The man looked up, his eyes scanning over her before smiling, and nodding. The velvet cobalt rope guarding the entrance vanished and he gestured her to move through. She flashed him her smile, reserved only for the Minister of Magic, for she was very grateful for the swiftness of the transaction of her bold efforts. She moved passed him, and he winked, taking her by surprise.

Hermione felt like she had just stepped into a palace in the middle of Zanzibar. The ornate décor took her breath away as she observed the great space around her. Golden statues of figures holding candles, great archways, velvet walls, red curtains which acted as shield to private areas, and a great oval bar in the centre, a stark black marble. She scanned through the crowd hoping to catch sight of a familiar face. Failing to do so, Hermione made her way down the stairs to the pit which contained the bar, gently pushing her way through the carefree bodies who were chatting over the loud music or dancing. Hermione found herself at the bar, noticing that the ceiling over it was charmed as small diamond like teardrops fell gently, disappearing just before they made contact with the skin. Mesmerized by the effect, and eager to order a drink, Hermione observed the people on the opposite end of the bar as she waited for a free bartender. It certainly was a crowd that was out to impress and be seen. The women were glamorous, and she had never seen so many good looking and sharply dressed men in the one room. Although, the fact that she hardly went out to such places was a factorial consideration.

Finally, she caught the eye of one of the bartenders dressed in cobalt short double breasted jackets, sighing gratefully that she could finally get a drink in her hand. "Vodka, soda with fresh lime, please," she so much as shouted. The bartender nodded nonchalantly, as if she had just pronounced it in a quiet room and set to work. She tapped her fingers to the music against the bar's surface as she waited for her drink. The bartender returned with her glass, and she moved to retrieve money from her purse to pay for it.

He waived her off, "It's already been paid for," he mouthed. Hermione must have given him a mighty look of utter confusion for he laughed at her reaction and pointed in the direction to her right. She leaned over the bar, tilting her head forward to get a better look. Her heart almost stopped, as there was no mistaking that light blonde mop of hair that had haunted her. Malfoy! She should have guessed as much. He lifted his drink, tilting his head in a gesture of 'bottoms up' before knocking back whatever he had left in his glass, setting the tumbler down and sending her an unmistakeable wink; her second for the evening. Was there something wrong with people's eyes tonight? She gestured to the bartender to lean forward toward her.

"Get him another of whatever he was drinking, on me," she directed. The bartender nodded, smiling. She looked back over at Malfoy whose expression was priceless as the drink was set down before him. She picked up her vodka, nodded over to him in gesture and took a sip, feeling rather content. The distance between them was something she intended to maintain throughout the evening, otherwise her head would start reeling over that incident in his office. She turned her back to the bar to scan the room once again in hope of spotting Lavender.

"Hermione, is that you?" She looked to her right.

"Luna?"

"I almost didn't recognise you. What are you doing here?" Hermione was taken aback by her bluntness.

"I'm here with some friends," she replied as politely as was sickly possible.

"Really? Who?" Oh, she could feel her eye twitch.

"Lavender Brown," she offered reluctantly. Luna raised an eyebrow, which Hermione caught as the lights flickered brightly at the right time. "Is Ron here?"

"No, Carla invited me to her VIP function. Ron is out with some friends having a boy's night." Hermione nodded, sipping her drink to avoid speaking. So, Carla was here, which explained Malfoy's presence. She looked ahead, lost for words, as she felt Luna scrutinize her outfit. The irony that it was the dress she had worn to her wedding made her smirk.

"Have you heard from Harry?" Hermione shook her head in response.

"He's back on tour, I suppose," she shouted over the music. Luna nodded, sipping her drink.

"Carla is probably waiting for me. I'll catch up with you a bit later?"

"Sure," she smiled, relieved. Luna nodded, and moved passed her, in the direction of one of the private areas. Wondering where she should begin her search for Lavender, she felt a tap on her shoulder and someone lean in to speak to her.

"Hermione?" She turned her head to see Blaise smiling at her.

"Hi, Blaise."

"The girls are on the other side. Follow me." She smiled and proceeded to make her way through the crowd as he led her towards a less populated area.

"Hermione, you made it! You look great!" Lavender exclaimed, kissing Hermione on the cheek. Lavender, of course, looked glamorous in her short red number, her hair styled to one side. "You remember Pavarti?" she gestured. Hermione nodded toward the familiar face. Pavarti was still the perfect picture of a fine beauty.

"Hi Pavarti, how are you? It's been ages!" Pavarti was clearly a little tipsy and excitedly hugged Hermione. "Hermione! Wow! It's so good to see you! You look amazing!" She was all exclamations in her heightened state. Hermione couldn't help but blush at her attention drawing gestures.

"You're looking great Pavarti, as always."

"Not great enough for Michael, it seems," her face fell dramatically. Hermione felt obliged to give the heartbroken woman another hug, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Forget about men tonight, Pavarti, just let loose and enjoy yourself, okay?" Pavarti nodded, smiling. Lavender came over with two drinks in hand, giving each a glass of champagne. Hermione inwardly laughed at the flute in her right hand, and her half-full vodka in her left. It was a far cry from her usual Saturday evening sitting on her couch. She gulped down the rest of her vodka, the bite of the lime tackling her taste buds.

"Ladies. Cheers! To a fabulous girls night out!" Hermione could not help but respond to Lavender's energy and enjoyed the company of the two tipsy girls. They danced freely, chatted to men that approached them, included Hermione in on jokes at which she could not help but laugh at their crudeness. Hermione had not had a single consuming thought all evening and had finally freed herself from her distractions, even to the point where she willingly danced with a very attractive man who had surprised her with his attentions.

Lavender and Pavarti came over to Hermione and her new acquaintance, giggling, "Hermione, we are just going to the ladies, won't be long," Lavender called out over the music, winking suggestively at Hermione and her new partner. Hermione rolled her eyes knowingly. They were leaving her _alone_ with the attractive man. They hurried off quickly before she could respond.

"Hermione. That's a gorgeous name," the attractive man leaned in and said. She smiled at his flirting as he grabbed her around the waist and brought her in closer. "It suits you perfectly," he whispered in her ear, in their more intimate embrace. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks, grateful that it was too dark for him to see. Feeling adventurous and the effects of the drinks Lavender had been constantly handing her throughout the evening, Hermione responded to his dance moves.

"Can I get you a drink?" He asked after a few minutes.

"Sure."

He flashed a smile that showed off his perfect set of teeth. "Don't go anywhere," he ordered flirtatiously, his hand moving down her lower back before letting her go.

The attention was overwhelming, and she could not help but smile to herself as she leaned against a nearby chair.

"So, Granger, were you planning on avoiding me all evening?" She was startled by the familiar voice that had snuck up on her. She spun her head around to face the intruder.

"Malfoy! You scared me!" she wavered.

"Having fun?" he leered.

"As a matter of fact, I am," she affirmed, feeling unnerved by his closeness.

"So, were you planning on avoiding me _all_ evening?" he questioned again, his head cocked to one side.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered.

"Well usually, buying someone a drink is a gesture to chat to them. You totally threw it back in my face. Worried we might get carried away again?" he raised an eyebrow suggestively.

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"Well then, why are you so edgy?"

"Perhaps the presence of your girlfriend might have something to do with it?"

"Who?"

"Your. Girlfriend. Carla"

"She's not my girlfriend, Granger."

"Right."

"No, I'm serious."

"You don't need to convince me, Malfoy."

"Come on, Granger. Whatever happened to just having fun?"

"Malfoy, I think we have very different ideas of fun."

"I beg to differ, Granger. Have I mentioned you look ravishing tonight? I am a legs man myself."

"Malfoy, are you drunk?"

"I might be," he grinned. It caught her off guard.

"Look, I really don't think we should be talking to each other." She looked around worriedly. The last think she wanted was to be spotted chatting to Malfoy, by anyone.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"As a matter of fact, you are."

"You don't want to mix with Adrian, Granger."

"Who?"

"Adrian!" he yelled over the music. "That guy who is all over you." She furrowed her brow at him, frustrated.

"Why do you care?"

"I don't. Just a word of advice," he shrugged.

"Right, well I am a grown woman. I think I can manage."

"Dutch courage, Granger, it can impede your judgement."

"I'm not drunk, Malfoy. Lavender and Pavarti will be coming back any minute. They will definitely ask questions if they saw me talking to you." He was taken aback by her bluntness and she could see he was offended.

"Well, Granger, we did a lot more than talk the other day, and now you are worried about being seen with me? You really are an enigma, Granger," he spat, eyes narrowed.

She instantly regretted what she had said. "I'm sorry, I just…I just don't know what to make of it, ok?" she almost pleaded. She looked into his eyes, for the first time properly that night, and could feel her emotions running astray. He was so distracting and consuming, his all black outfit emphasising his remarkable features.

"Whatever, Granger. Trying to avoid me is not going to change the fact that we slept together." She cringed as he voiced his thoughts. His affirmation made it more real.

"I know! I just don't want to think about it tonight," she shouted with exasperation.

"Well you have chosen the right guy to help you forget!"

"I am not going to sleep with him, Malfoy! What do you take me for?" He shrugged.

"Well thanks a lot. You think I'm just another girl willing to hop into bed with any guy that shows an interest? That's great, Malfoy, just great! I see that I was just another conquest. Like you said, it was inevitable, since I'm so easy!" She lifted her arms and dropped them in defeat.

"Hang on a second, Granger. Don't get carried away." He moved to grab her arm and she jerked it out of his reach. His face expressed rage.

"Just leave me alone, Malfoy." She turned to walk away.

"Granger!" She ignored him as she saw Adrian coming back up the stairs with drinks in hand, and hoped that Malfoy would just take a hint. She flashed a smile, welcoming back the interruption to her everlasting distraction.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is in two parts...sorry!


	14. A lesson in spontaneity: part two

**A/N: And so, the night out continues...:p**

Previously: _"Granger!" She ignored him as she saw Adrian coming back up the stairs with drinks in hand, and hoped that Malfoy would just take a hint. She flashed a smile, welcoming back the interruption to her everlasting distraction._

* * *

"I hope you like cocktails, the bartender recommended the house special, a _Diamond_ _Delight_," Adrian said as he offered her an opulent glass glistening with an icy concoction.

"It looks pretty," she joked.

"I thought so," he grinned. She took a sip, only to find her tastebuds titillated by the bittersweet mix. She felt dazzled by the flavours. "Good?" he asked.

She nodded, "It certainly lives up to its name." He laughed.

"Do you want to go sit somewhere and have a chat while we drink these? It's a bit hard to dance with one free hand. Well, the way I like to dance, anway."

"Yeah, ok." Adrian led her toward one of the sitting areas that could be shielded by the ceiling height red curtains. She did not speculate where Malfoy had gone until she saw him up ahead, talking to none other than Pavarti and Lavender. She felt even worse for using them as an excuse to avoid him, when clearly they had no problem in their drunken states. They'd chat to anyone! She pursed her lips as she saw them giggling at something he said. It made her feel uneasy.

"This one's free," Adrian directed. She sat down on the plush midnight blue crescent couch, as he drew the curtain. It appeared to be charmed to drown out the loudness of the music in the main room, which she considered rather clever. He sat next to her, inching closer. "Well, I know you're gorgeous, and that you enjoy a dance, but, tell me something I don't know about you, Hermione?" She blushed. The "r" in her name rolled off his tongue in such a way it made her shiver. He was the polar opposite to Malfoy: dark, olive skinned, thick black hair, sporting a five o'clock shadow. His eyes were framed with black rimmed square glasses that only served to add to his mysterious allure.

"Well…," she faltered. No guy had recently asked her anything about her self. Malfoy was either presumptuous or brazen with his inquisitions. "What do you want to know?" she decided to be playful. He inched closer. Hermione realised that the only reason she knew this guy's name was because Malfoy had told her. "I don't even know your name," she added.

"Andrew." She eyed him questioningly

"What, don't I look like an Andrew, or something?" he teased.

"Uh, no, I just thought you might have a more exotic name," she quickly surmised. Maybe Malfoy had the wrong guy? She shrugged it off and smiled, turning her attention to her drink for a moment.

"I'm sorry to disappoint," he mocked. At least he had a sense of humour. "I hope I do make up for it in other ways."

"Do you have a bag of tricks up your sleeve?" she flirted. He laughed again.

"You'll just have to wait and see, won't you? How's that cocktail? Mind if I taste?" he said rather suggestively. Hermione moved to hand him her drink but he stopped her, leaning in.

"I have something else in mind," he whispered. Their implied discussion left her feeling rather light headed, and she could not make sense of what he meant, that is until, she could feel his lips on hers. Hermione almost jumped out of her seat in surprise. So, this is how a smooth man operated in a bar? She responded; her inhibitions wavered by her drink, as the feel of his stubble enticed her senses. The kiss was rough, lustful, yielding no meaning other than desire in the heat of the moment. Yet, it was strangely satisfying. Hermione broke the kiss in fear, for she never allowed herself such intimacy for the sake of it.

"You're right, it does live up to its name," he finished. She looked at him coyly, smiling slightly, taking another sip to cool her lips. He was full of subtle undertones.

"Was that one of your tricks?" she replied, in an attempt to bring them back to a conversational level.

He leaned back expectantly, bringing her with him, "You're a smart witch, aren't you?" he said with a sly half smile, one that oozed confidence. Malfoy was right. If there was anyone who could stop her mind ticking, it was this man. She felt an uncommon desire to surrender to her emotions, it was beyond her control and it was growing at an exponential rate. She could feel her eyes glaze as she resisted the urge.

"How are you feeling, Hermione," he whispered. She drew into him, her hand on his chest, her eyes focused on his lips, her heart rate unusually excited. He was looking at her expectantly. She wondered briefly why he didn't make the first move again but she was overcome by an unusually spontaneous craving and moved to kiss him. The contact was unrestrained as she abandoned all thought but the mechanics of their intense kissing. Immersed in her actions, she did not register that the music had suddenly become loud again. She was so much as straddling Andrew at the moment she caught the reaction of the intruder.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" a high pitched voiced shrieked. He broke their contact to see what the commotion was leaving Hermione feeling strangely disappointed by the interruption. She felt a sense of loss and her desire re-escalating. She turned her head in frustration to reprimand the culprit.

"Carla!" she squeaked. The shock was enough to shift her attentions from him and jump out of the compromising position she found herself in. Blushing, she straightened her dress and stood. Adrian seemed livid.

"Can't you see this area is occupied? Closed curtains usually mean no entry!" he practically bellowed over the music. It seemed that Carla did not register who Hermione was, focusing her attention on him.

"I'm sorry, I made a mistake, I was looking for someone," she asserted, glancing quickly at Hermione as she moved to turn away. She quickly glanced back, "Hermione Granger?"

"Hello Carla, having a nice evening?" Hermione shifted her weight, from one heel to the other. Carla raised an eyebrow as her eyes darted from Adrian and back to her, giving her the once over. Hermione wanted to slap her demeaning stare.

"Have you seen Draco?" Hermione shook her head.

"Again, sorry to have _interrupted_," she replied before walking away. Hermione released a breath, realising that she had tensed up quite a bit at being seen partaking in such activities so openly.

"Now, where were we?"

"Uh, my friends are probably wondering where I am, I should go find them," The distance from him seemed to bring her to her senses.

"Come on Hermione," he practically purred, "I thought we had something good going here?" He leaned forward from his seating position, patting his knee for her to climb back on.

"It was…nice," she frowned at her poor description which would probably offend him. It was certainly anything but nice; it was the antithesis.

"Nice? If that's your impression of nice, I would love to see what your idea of steamy would be! And, we were only getting started. It was just kicking in." She just caught the end of it and her eyes widened in realisation.

"Huh? What was _kicking_ in?"

"Nothing you wouldn't enjoy, don't worry."

"Andrew, can you please tell me what you're talking about?" He stood up, walked over to her and began rubbing her arms soothingly.

"Can you feel it now?" She could, the blinding desire in her head was in full force and she wanted her whole body to be connected to his. She flew out of his reach in realisation.

"Please tell me you haven't drugged me?" she narrowed her eyes in horror at the prospect.

"It's just a stimulant. I am really attracted to you and I thought you felt the same, so this just lets you loosen up a little and act on it more readily." Hermione was freaking out.

"Just a stimulant?" she shouted, "that is so invasive and deceptive, Andrew, not to mention probably illegal! Whatever you have given me has erased all inhibitions and affected my judgement! It's not some sort of lust potion is it?" Her hands were trembling as she stepped further away from him. The pull of her lust driven emotions subsided a little.

He had the nerve to laugh. "Lust potions don't exist, Hermione. It's a pheromone receptor booster. It's not illegal. It relies on an existing attraction and enhances it. It does not make you have that reaction with every male." She was seething at his condescending tone. She could slap him right now but she had the more pressing matter of maintaining a safe distance to worry about.

"Whatever! It was really dishonest of you to do that! I- I have to go find my friends. _Don't_ follow me out," she ordered. "Is your name even Andrew, or is it Adrian?" she suddenly remembered. He seemed taken aback by this but remained silent. "I thought so," she laughed at her own stupidity before turning away. Hermione shifted the obstructing curtain to one side and once again was drowned by the blaring sound. "Fucking men!" she yelled over the music. A few people close by turned their heads in her direction, astounded by such vocal obscenity. She smirked at them.

What a night it was turning out to be! Hermione wandered down to the main area occupying the bar. She needed fluids to flush out whatever it was that was paralysing her judgement. Any man she felt even a remote attraction to would foster the unwanted feeling within her, but she could manage it with her refreshed sense of awareness and anger. She wondered whether Lavender and Pavarti were still floating about. Hermione caught the bartender's attention, and ordered a bottle of water, gulping it down in record time.

Spotting Lavender's red dress, she hurried over, eyes downcast so as not to catalyse any unwanted reactions. "Hey!" she tapped her to grab her attention. Lavender spun around and gave Hermione a hug.

"What happened to mister tall, dark and handsome?" she quizzed.

"Don't ask!" she rolled her eyes but doubted Lavender noticed. "He turned out to be a jerk!" Lavender laughed, rubbing Hermione's arm.

"Aww, honey, all guys are jerks, but he was a hot jerk!" she said it in a knowing way that made Hermione smile. "Speaking of hot, you wouldn't believe who Pavarti is dancing with! Draco Malfoy!"

"What?"

"Draco Malfoy!"

"I heard you!" Lavender frowned at her sharpness. Hermione could not believe Malfoy had infiltrated their girl's night. She could see him dancing with Pavarti rather closely and even with the metres of distance between them, that undeniable pull in her stomach meant that the stimulant had not waned and she could feel her mind clouding. "I have to go to the bathroom, ok?"

"We'll be right here."

Hermione inched her way through the crowd once more and headed to the ladies. What a way for her first night out to unfold. If she ever saw Adrian again she would hex him. Her priority at the time was to distance herself immediately; she didn't think to take action of a permanent type. She glanced at herself in the mirror. She looked the same except for the fact that on closer inspection her pupils were dilated a little too much. She inwardly growled, then moaned at her own naivety at accepting drinks from strange men when she did not see the drink being made. At least her hair hadn't moved out of place. She shook her head and laughed pitifully. It was time to call it a night and head home but she would need to let the girls know. If only she could apparate within the venue, that would have eased her burden. Once again, Hermione wandered back through the dancing crowd, avoiding stealing glances from men at all costs. Lavender's dress in sight, she was almost there when she felt a hand grab her and pull her in to the dancing crowd.

"Hermione! Come dance!" It was Pavarti. She swung her around and into the direct gaze of Malfoy. She had no time to consider his signature smirk an abomination, for she was fighting off the irrefutable covet. Her eyes widened in horror at the realisation she would not be able to hold out the need for contact. The lights flashed around her, and his eyes bore into hers.

"You remember Draco Malfoy from school?" Pavarti introduced, unbeknownst to the eye exchange and physical reactions occurring in her carefree state.

"How could I forget," Hermione responded, still staring at Malfoy. She could not break the eye contact.

"Draco, don't be rude! Say 'hi' to Hermione," Pavarti gave him a playful shove. He leaned in close to her ear. Her breath hitched in horror at what she might do.

"Hello, _Hermione._" His cool baritone hit her senses like a thunderbolt. "What's wrong with your eyes?" he added. She was certain he would have noticed her tense up like a washboard. Without a word, Hermione moved past him, careful not to make any contact whatsoever, and practically ran to the exit of 'Blue Diamond'. Stepping out into the crisp air, she finally exhaled, breathless. She began to walk down to the end of the alley, ignoring the chill on her bare skin.

"Leaving so soon?" She whirled around to see Malfoy looking rather amused.

"You came out here to ask me that? It was pretty obvious wasn't it?" she retorted. "What did you tell Pavarti before deciding to follow me?"

"That I insulted you."

"Figures," she said, more for her own ears.

"Well it worked. She demanded I come after you to apologise. Amazing what orders one can pull off after a few drinks."

"Don't be a wise-crack."

"I do owe you an apology though." Hermione didn't hear a thing. She was too busy inching closer to him, her eyes on his lips. There was no way she could overcome the building magnetism to be near him without any extraneous stimuli disturbing her.

"Huh?"

"I owe you an apology for insinuating you were promiscuous." Hermione laughed. He frowned, scrutinizing her closely.

"Granger, what are you on?"

"Just a stimulant," she murmured.

"What!" he yelled.

"I don't care," she continued, her hands were now on his chest, moving over his sculpted physique masked by the Egyptian cotton.

"Granger, you'll regret this," he stated frankly.

"_Draco_, I want this," she finished before pressing her lips to his soft and surprised mouth. The eruption of her nerve endings ensued at the contact, as her stomach flipped in response. The sensation was so overwhelming that she grew faint, and then everything went blank.

* * *

A/N: I leave you with a note that it will be from Draco's viewpoint next time.


	15. Tickled confrontation

**Disclaimer: All recognisable elements are attributable to J.K.R. Too bad really. **

**A/N: I am finally glad to get this out to you! Enjoy! **

**Chapter 15**

Draco had sat at his desk, reclining against the soft leather of his chair, flicking his pen, as he stared absently at his couches. Specifically, he was staring at _the_ couch. The one affiliated with that spontaneous and unforgettable event, the one that was forever marred with Granger's lingering scent from her recent departure, and his fresh memory. Draco blinked to ease his thought process. All he could see was Granger, exposed and willing. His mind was saturated.

'It was just sex,' he continuously reminded himself. 'Even Granger thought it was a mistake. It was a mistake! An inevitable mistake! Damn!' He tossed his pen across the desk and swiftly swivelled up and out of his executive chair, grabbing his jacket. Draco walked out of the office, slamming the door behind him, causing Mac to jump out of his seat in automated shock. He rarely expressed frustration at the office.

"Draco, you want me to get you anything?" he offered. He was pulling at his shirt tails, untucked under his v-neck cashmere vest, uncertain of how to respond to the unusual behaviour of his boss. Slytherins rarely exhibited emotion other than anger, displeasure or derision. On the contrary, his boss looked edgy, frazzled and agitated.

It had been a strange morning, and Mac wondered whether it had anything to do with the visit from Hermione Granger. Of course, the walls were silenced so he could only take a wild guess. "Ministry troubles?" he questioned. Draco shot him an accusing look.

"Mac, I'm out for the rest of the day. Call me if there's anything urgent. Cancel my lunch appointment with that reporter. Reschedule. Whatever," he said distractedly.

"Uh, but it's in fifteen minutes," he looked at the large clock on the wall behind his desk which was charmed to show Draco's schedule. Draco looked up at it for confirmation.

"Shit, we've cancelled before on this one, haven't we?" Mac nodded. "Hmmm," he pondered momentarily before announcing with resolution in his voice, "you can go for me."

"What?" Mac spluttered, "What do I know about mergers and acquisitions?" He was annoyed.

"Fudge it. Pretend the discussion is about Pudlemere United merging with the Chudley Canons."

Mac scrunched up his face at the impertinent thought. "That would be a disaster!"

"Exactly. It's never a smooth process. You'll be fine. They always ask fluffy questions, anyway," he reassured bluntly. Mac looked irritated, affronted that Draco had somehow taken out his frustration on him, but he'd get over it. Draco walked out of the office, with a view to avoid returning until Monday. The sentiment 'T.G.I Friday' had never rung so true.

Draco had sauntered out of his office building only to have his mobile phone ringing the minute he stepped out. It was Mac.

"What's up?"

"An owl just arrived from Blaise. He's wants to confirm that you're heading to his family's estate tonight?" Draco swore under his breath. He really just wanted to do nothing, but it would probably bring him some mental relief to hang out, away from London.

"I'll call him. Don't you have a meeting to attend?" he joked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going. Don't expect me in on Monday, I'm taking a sick day from all this stress." Draco laughed.

"If you're not in on Monday, don't bother coming in on Tuesday either. I'll buy you lunch, ok?" He could not make out what Mac was mumbling. "What?"

"Fine!" Mac hung up. Draco slipped his phone in his pocket and headed south toward the Ministry. He needed a portkey to Italy for the night. 'May as well start drinking early,' he thought. The Zabini estate had plenty of wine.

OOO

Draco arrived in the Chianti region of Tuscany, at the pebbled driveway marking the entrance of a boutique winery which housed the rustic, limestone palazzo owned by the Zabini family. It was surrounded by green gardens, fountains and valleys of wine yard which stretched out onto the horizon. The sweetness in the air did not escape his senses as he noticed some workers harvesting the grapes. The afternoon sun shocked his pale skin as he made his way through the courtyard to the familiar entrance. A house elf greeted him.

"Mister Malfoy," he acknowledged, bowing.

"How many times have I told you to call me Draco?" he responded before walking past the elf who was still bowed over. "Now, where would Blaise be at this time of day?"

"He is in the cellars Mister Draco. May I take you there?"

"It's just Draco, no 'Mister'. And no, I do not wish to go down to the gloomy cellars. I will be out in the garden enjoying the sun. Bring me a bottle of the classico reserve."

"Certainly."

Draco made his way back outside to the outdoor dining area where he swiftly made himself comfortable on one the reclining chairs. A carafe of the reserve appeared beside him and he eagerly poured himself a generous glass. The first contact with the full bodied liquid brought a smile of satisfaction to his lips. He leaned back, letting the sun tickle his skin as he sipped with his eyes closed. This was the life.

"Draco!" The peace was short lived as Draco opened one eye to see Blaise looking over him from behind the chair. His hair was disheveled and his bronzed skin only emphasised the whiteness of his t-shirt. He had the holiday glow which Malfoy so sorely lacked. Blaise removed his sunglasses; resting them over his head as he scrutinized his friend.

"Since when do you leave work early to start drinking?"

"I make exceptions for your wine, Blaise."

"I can see that. Still the best isn't it?"

"Yep, too bad your mother won't let you sell it."

"You should be the first to understand her mentality. Exclusive and superior keeps the enemies pacified when they're sent the annual dozen by mother dearest. The more she hates them, the better the wine. Makes them cringe with envy. She's a laugh."

"Smart woman," Draco conceded before sipping, swirling the burgundy liquid in his glass to check out its legs. Blaise sat in the chair next to him and called for his house elf.

"Master Zabini requests something?"

"Some cheese and fruit should do the trick." The elf bowed before disappearing as Blaise poured himself a glass.

"How's that fiancé of yours doing?"

"Padma's at her sister's. Boyfriend troubles, or something, so, she won't be coming down this weekend. They're planning a night out at that new club Blue Diamond tomorrow. Padma wants me to go with them. You should come."

"The name rings a bell. I think we're entertaining some company affiliates there tomorrow night. Carla's arranged it so I guess I'll be there. What's Padma's sister's name?"

"Pavarti."

"Newly single did you say?" Blaise sent him a 'don't go there look'.

"Don't even think about it. I don't want Padma involving me just because you're my friend. She'd kill me for letting you zone in on her sister's fragile rebound state. Anyway, aren't you seeing that Carla chick?"

"I told you, we're not exclusive."

"It sure didn't look that way at Weasley's lunch."

"Yeah, well I was just trying to piss Granger off." It had slipped out before he realised what he'd said. The wine was too relaxing.

"Did you say Granger? Hermione Granger?"

"Forget it." Draco dismissed as he savored another mouthful of the rich flavour. He could see Blaise's mind working behind his narrowed eyes from his periphery, as the silence consumed them.

"Something tells me there is more to this than simply living up to old habits," Blaise finally stated resolutely.

"Well…it's complicated," was all he responded pensively.

"Hey, we have about two hours until sunset and I plan on sitting out here until then." Blaise affirmed.

"Let's just say, Granger and I have been seeing a lot of each other lately." Blaise stared at him, puzzled.

"Do elaborate Draco, I don't want to imply things with wine in my system and the sun on my face. Who knows what crazy conclusion I can reach" Draco said nothing for a moment, deliberating whether he should unleash what had transpired, but he merely shrugged. A cheese platter appeared and he reached for a piece.

"Has it got anything to do with that magazine of hers?"

"Well, that's part of it. The Ministry gave us the contract to advertise, finally. If the Minister hadn't taken an interest, Granger never would have agreed to it."

"So, she's not too pleased about it then? What's new? Hermione's never exactly been ecstatic to see you or associate with you." Blaise laughed at the prospect.

Draco wanted to add, 'She's certainly been another kind of ecstatic,' but simply smirked in response which only made Blaise more curious.

"Fuck, Malfoy, since when do you have a roundabout way of telling me things. It's Friday, I have spent the day castigating the employees, and you want to direct your smirks at me! Now I know how Padma must feel!"

"Granger and I slept together. Is that clear enough?" Draco submitted exasperated at his persistent friend. Blaise's mouth dropped, and his great azure eyes widened in disbelief. The sight was rather humorous, except for the fact that it was in response to a rather absurd notion.

"Shut you're mouth Blaise, I keep having the same reaction. I don't want to see my mirror image." He gulped the rest of his glass and poured himself another.

"What would make Hermione want to sleep with you?" Blaise queried more for his own sense of reasoning.

"Why wouldn't she want to?" he defended.

"I'm not challenging you're womanizing abilities, man, but Hermione Granger is untouchable. Not to mention your pasts! She must have been drunk." Draco shot him a glare.

"Now you're just insulting me! If you want me to tell you about it you can at least be reasonable! And, she was not drunk! Trust me, I've seen Granger drunk!" He scowled for hinting at something that would warrant further explanation.

"Oh?" Blaise raised an eyebrow in interest.

"At the ministry annual ball," he reluctantly informed as the memory of his reaction to Granger before he had realized it was her flooded his mind. "I didn't know it was her, she had sprained her ankle and I happened to be around when she fell, so I heeled it and helped her home." Both of Blaise's eyebrows were now raised, a hint of mirth present in his expression.

"Well that certainly clears up the why Hermione might, and I say _might_, be into you on some level. You certainly played your cards right!"

"Fuck off Blaise. I was raised properly, even if my father was blinded by power, my mother paid attention to nurturing me on some humane level. I couldn't have left her there for everyone to witness her state and injury."

"Wow, you really _must_ have been attracted to her before you realized it was her."

"Your sarcasm does not escape me," he replied with a strained calmness. "I could say the same thing for you. How did Padma fall for a cocky slytherin? Matured with age? Like this five year old fine wine of yours?"

"She only wants to marry me for my money, and my body, and perhaps she might love me a little bit but, that is really third down the list." Blaise joked.

"Yeah, right. If I recall correctly, you mentioned something about sex being better with someone you love?" he chuckled.

"Funny you remember that?" Draco frowned.

"So, Hermione Granger. How was it?" Draco was taken aback at the question. He had naturally compared it himself but, to be openly questioned about Granger's performance in the sack was rather bizarre. He felt unable to divulge any details, where normally he would not hesitate.

"That good eh?" Blaise finished off his own glass, shaking his head in wonderment, before pouring himself another. Draco was quiet; a troubled thoughtful silence enveloped him.

"Well, she is a perfectionist," he muttered, a half-smile on his face. Blaise almost choked on his wine.

"You should hear yourself. How long have you been seeing each other?"

"It only happened once." Blaise was once again overcome with shock.

"When?"

"Today." This time, Blaise did choke. His coughing fit interchanging with laughter. There was no way Malfoy was going to disclose the whereabouts of the event.

"For some reason, I don't feel like assisting you," he retorted, semi annoyed at his friend's reaction. Blaise shook his head, brandishing his hands to signify that he was okay and that he did not intend any ill-harm. He finally composed himself, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"Something tells me you will have a hard time distracting yourself when you're with Carla," he stated frankly.

"Thanks a lot, mate." The sun was now approaching the horizon and the telling pink and orange hues of the looming sunset were settling into the sky, creating a breathtaking blanket over the valley before them. The sound of dusk surrounded them as the nocturnal creatures awoke to fill the night with their sounds filtering through the light breeze.

"Can you see it happening again?" Blaise suddenly blurted.

"I really don't know. It's all a bit fucked, especially since we have to work together, and Carla is involved in the project."

"Sound like fun and games to me. You really are screwed." It was Blaise's turn to smirk at his well-placed pun. Draco threw a dried apricot at him in distaste.

"Shall we head out for a flying session before we get completely plastered?" Draco nodded. It really was the best time to fly, and he desperately needed to escape from the confines of land mass.

OOO

Draco found himself standing outside the elaborate club, Carla next to him, talking to their guests. She had flown in some prospective business affiliates from the continent and was playing the part of the perfect hostess. He admired her confidence, and she looked amazing, but somehow, the desire to be with her was wavering. A few drinks should fix the problem before they headed home that evening.

The night had progressed well until Draco spotted Granger at the bar ordering a drink. He decided to play it cool, but it had backfired, much to his disdain. Granger was clearly affected by what had happened, and not in a positive sense. But, he was rather pre-occupied by the fact that he had never seen her look so sexy in her black dress, her legs distracting him to no end, her shoes only accentuating their length. They were, by far, his favourite pair. He was surprised to see her out partying with Padma's sister, revealing a rather playful side that he was yet to witness. He had involuntary kept his eye out for her, even when he was with Carla, as if he had a radar zoned in to direct his attention to her position in the great space. It was rather cumbersome yet, he could not restrain himself.

Seeing Granger dance with Adrian Gillard, a former business associate who had stolen intellectual property from a Malfoy subsidiary for his own advantage, triggered an internal rage, and a strange obligation to warn Granger. It had not gone well at all as he had been too irate with Granger's reaction and apparent desire to disassociate herself from him around her friends. He had retaliated with his implied remarks, and it had ended rather sourly, leaving her more inclined to be entertained by the conniving asshole, Adrian, who's notoriety was based on his inability to function without his daily dose of underlying mal-intent. She would never listen anyway, despite his attempt to reason with her, a poor one at that, she had walked away from him after a few terse words in response to his tactlessness.

OOO

Draco was stumped. There he stood, in Diagon Alley, with Granger collapsed in his arms; all warm against him, yet passed out from an overreaction to whatever stimulant was coursing through her system. The instant he had seen her eyes under the erratic flashing lights, he had recognised the signs. Finding Granger in an altered state seemed to be a recurring event and he toyed with her briefly by making an effort to call her by her first name. It had felt foreign: about as foreign as it was to hear her only moments ago call him by his first name.

As she lay collapsed against him, her head on his shoulder, and his arms around her waist for support, Draco hoped that whatever she had taken would have no lingering magical effects. The mix of these party drugs, as he had discovered himself in the past, was never consistent. He had to act quickly. There was no way he could take her back to his apartment; Carla would be there later on. He decided to apparate to her place, certain that the wards would let them through as they recognised the charge from her wand which he suspected was on her person somewhere, or in her purse. For the second time, Draco uttered, 'Granger Residence', and felt the pull of a successful apparition, Granger firmly in his grasp.

Allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness of what he expected was her living room, Draco reached down to secure his hold on Granger behind her knees and lifted her into his arms as he walked down the corridor, in search of a bedroom. She was still out, her breath shallow. He could smell alcohol, and the remaining hint of her scent. It was extremely distracting, and he could not wait to rid himself of her from his grasp. He had never found himself in such a situation, and as he placed her down, ensuring her head hit the soft pillow for support, he stood up looking down at her. Could he just leave her there? He bent over, turning his head to one side to listen out for the rhythm of her breathing. It seemed steady.

"Granger?" he whispered tentatively. He could heal simple wounds but Draco was a novice to any medical magic. Reaching for his wand to cast light in the room, he brought it down over her face to inspect her closely. He skin glowed eerily under the light, her lashes casting a shadow over her cheeks. Draco gently lifted one of her eyelids to check her pupils. They immediately restricted against the light, and she stirred in reaction, lifting an arm to wave away the disturbance. He signed in relief. At least she had responded, he mused. Draco was feeling unsure as to what he should do next, for she looked rather uncomfortable with her shoes still on her feet. He decided to take them off and sat at the edge of her bed. Lifting her foot onto his lap for support, he gently undid the delicate strap around her ankle and slipped the shoe off. A sense of déjà vu came over him. He could not help but run his fingers over her ankle; it was the one he had heeled. Unconsciously, his fingers had traveled down to her foot, as he marveled at the softness of her heels. A sudden jolt to his stomach was much cause for alarm.

Draco had forgotten that Granger was extremely ticklish. "Ouch! Granger!" he flew off the bed and rubbed the area of his torso that her foot had so abruptly made contact with, and with great force at that.

She had awakened instantly at the sensation of his hands over her feet. She sat up, leaning on her elbows. "Sorry," she mumbled sleepily, smiling coyly, her eyes all groggy as she tried to make out the figure before her. "Where am I?"

"Welcome back Granger. I brought you back to your place after you so elegantly collapsed in Diagon Alley."

"Malfoy?"

"Surprise," he responded with sarcasm. "Did you forget that I was the last person you saw before your fainting episode?"

"I did what?" she frowned in thought. "I don't even remember!"

"Do you remember taking drugs, Granger?" Silence. He could see her mind backtracking through the events of the evening as her eyes narrowed, the escalating ferocity apparent.

"Adrian!" she seethed, through gritted teeth.

"Well, what did I tell you?" She shot him a glare.

"Can't really remember since I was too busy reacting to your comments on my loose morals!"

"Loose morals? How old are you Granger? 50?! And, I did apologise for that, you know."

"You did?"

"Funny how you don't remember the apology. Quite convenient, really."

"Malfoy, I don't remember anything past Carla walking in on me with that asshole."

"What?" She shrank back and covered her hands with her face. "Well, clearly it was the stupid stimulant he put in my drink!" she said, her voice muffled behind her palms.

"Do you know what he gave you?"

She dropped her hands away, the intensity of her rage evident on her face, "A fucking pheromone receptor or something akin to a lust potion."

"Shit, Granger. That can cause major blackouts and memory loss."

"So I hear," she retorted sardonically.

Don't be funny Granger, that stuff is used by couples in the privacy of their home, in controlled conditions. Not in public where - " He cut himself off as realisation suddenly dawned on him. An involuntary smirk crossed his face.

"Where what?"

"Where you might run into someone you have been with recently without the need for the stimulant," he offered. Hermione groaned and covered her face in her pillow. She did not want to think about it!

Draco was irritated by her response. She had professed to 'wanting' him while under the influence and he had been courteous enough to restrain himself from taking advantage of her open feelings, only to witness her contrary reaction at this point in time. It did not sit well with him at all. "Well, Granger, I'll have you know that whatever Adrian gave you is not hallucinogenic or mind altering, it simply removes your inhibitions so that you don't think! So, there is no point trying to deceive yourself when you so openly admitted that you 'want' me." He saw her body stiffen around the edges of her silhouette. She slowly lifted her head and turned to face him. It was strange that they had been conversing in the darkness of her room.

"Did I do anything else?" she hesitantly asked. Draco suddenly felt awkward discussing it.

"No." he lied. "You blacked out."

She slowly sat up, hand to forehead, and sat on the edge of the bed. "Can you switch on the light?" she asked. He nodded, knowing his physical response was in vain in the darkness. Draco moved to the light switch and flicked it on. He immediately flinched as the light shocked his eyes and he squinted to allow them to re-adjust to the sudden change.

"Thanks," she mumbled. He turned to face her. She was still sporting one shoe which amused him. Her eyes lifted to his and they regarded each other, a good distance between them. For a moment, there were no ancillary thoughts, or clouds of self-reproach. He was looking at her honestly, as if for the first time. Her own gaze appeared candid before she looked down, a slight blush on her cheeks. He found it strangely comforting.

"Thanks for bringing me home. It's been a crazy night."

"I'll judge that as understatement of the year," her remarked, rather lamely.

"Do you want a drink or anything?" He wanted to play on the 'on anything' option but he restrained himself from exercising his expected reaction. As it were, it had been an eventful evening.

"No thanks, I'm ok. But, you should make sure you drink lots of fluids." She eyed him curiously before moving to stand up. She looked down at the foot of her bent knee, seeing that she only had one shoe on. He caught her smile coyly before she looked over at him.

"Nice shoes, Granger."

"I know." Draco raised an eyebrow at her. This was the first time she had accepted the compliment.

"Uh, well, I guess I'll be off. I'll see you - " He didn't want to finish the sentence. She just nodded. He turned to walk out of her bedroom; it had not occurred to him until now that all this time he was in there. Pushing back the thought, he focused on apparating home. Carla would probably be there, waiting to question what had happened to him.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


	16. In deep: Part 1

**Disclaimer: All recognisable elements are attributable to J.K.R. Too bad really. **

**A/N: I know it's been a while but I finally cleared by temporary disinterest due to other distractions, namely my other story _From Dig to Digs, _job commitments (bleh!), study (mega bleh!) but am excited to get back into it! I apologise in advance because it is in two parts...again...:p**

**Chapter 16**

Draco arrived in his living room; the fire was lit, marking the presence of another. Carla was lying on the sofa, sound asleep. He sat in the wing chair opposite the couch, his eyes focused intently on the blazing flames as he mulled over the evening's events. The heat soothed him as he undid the buttons of his shirt, untucking it from his jeans, with one person still on his mind. It certainly didn't help that she had acted so wantonly in the alley. She had given herself so completely in that kiss alone, it was mind numbing. Just as Draco suspected, Adrian had given her quite the dose.

Draco removed his shoes and set them to one side, lifting his feet to rest on the coffee table. As he looked over at Carla, all he could visualise was Granger. He was in over his head. To end it with Carla would mean that hey had something in the first place. How was he going to tell her that he didn't want sex anymore? She would immediately assume that he was getting it somewhere else. He ran his fingers through his hair contemplatively as he leaned back to rest his head.

The thought of Granger with Adrian made him feel sick. What's more, her downright reluctance to be seen with him or so much as be _near _him in public was even more infuriating. What was her problem? And, why did he care so much? He frowned at his predicament. Draco didn't know what to make of it all, and he sure as hell was aware of her preference to just forget the whole thing had ever happened all because she couldn't handle the fact that she had lost control once in her life. The only way he knew how to manage the situation was to make it blatantly obvious, but that was proving futile. He sighed out loud. Either way, her untiring obstinacy needed to be quashed for there to be any resolve. Glancing over at Carla sound asleep, he stood up and went to his bedroom, calling it a night.

The weekend progressed without incident. Carla had apparated home at some point in the night, and had not contacted him since. He knew she was wound up by his behaviour and was purposely keeping her distance. He guessed she'd left the ball in his court; the only thing was, he was happy to abandon it.

ooo

Draco returned to work on Monday to find one rather smug looking assistant lazily drinking a cup of coffee at his desk, his feet propped up on the austere, dark stained table.

"What's up with you?" Draco felt compelled to ask. He could care less what the young carefree Slytherin got up to. Mac broke from his reverie and looked up to see his boss. He quickly shuffled his feet off the desk, in an attempt to re-affirm his professionalism. Draco smirked.

"Nothing. How was your weekend?" he replied casually trying to portray workplace civility. Draco cocked an eyebrow in amusement.

"Fine, how was _your_ weekend?" he pulled the attention right back on to Mac who was now obligated to answer.

"Also, fine," he briefed, his self-satisfied grin returning.

"You look like you got laid." Draco figured he may as well taunt the kid who feigned shock at the remark.

"I do not!" He defended hotly, looked displeased with himself at his lack of inscrutability that his boss managed to exhibit so well.

"I know that look," Draco chuckled. "Who is she then?"

Mac sighed, "I think I'm in love!" he admitted. "And, it's all thanks to you."

"Glad I could help," Draco replied goading him along as he walked to his office. Mac followed enthusiastically. Draco was slightly annoyed that he had bothered to ask.

"That interview you made me go to on Friday, the one I didn't want to do, well that was the best thing that ever happened to me," he stated with satisfaction.

Draco rolled his eyes as he walked around his desk and sat down. "Make yourself productive while you're in here and get me a coffee," he reminded. Mac only treated that as further permission to divulge details. He boastfully grinned, returning with a coffee and setting it promptly in front of Draco, taking a seat himself upon the completion of his duties.

"Well, you were right about them sticking to the superficial stuff. She thought I was a genius, _and_ she was really impressed that I worked for you." Draco took a sip of his coffee, expecting to hear that.

"So what's her name?"

"Greta," he said wistfully. Draco frowned at the sick puppy dog face of his young assistant. He recognised the look. He had done the same thing when he had experienced his first taste of the media. Mac had a few lessons to learn this morning. Draco took another sip before turning his attentions to the faraway looking prince lost in the land of hopeless infatuation.

"Hate to break it to you mate, but she's only interested in one thing. Her job. Rule number one when dealing with reporters or journalists. NEVER get personal," he stated seriously. Mac returned to reality, blank as he processed the words conferred by his boss. Realisation dawned and his face drew a snarl of discontent.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Draco just shrugged knowingly. Mac stood up. "Just because you can't find someone who likes you as much as you like them doesn't mean others can't," he scolded defensively.

"Watch your tone. I am trying to warn you. Lucky for you, I'm telling you straight out that it's all business with journos. I'm the one who had to find out the hard way," he replied sternly. He had never used this tone with Mac before, and felt slightly guilty, like he had reprimanded his younger brother when he didn't know any better.

Mac's posture slackened slightly but his jaw remained clenched as he tried to withhold his cutting remarks. "You're wrong," he let out before walking out of the office. Draco shook head and finished his coffee, feeling rather flat.

ooo

Days passed and Draco could not shake off the feeling of self respite. He had not seen Carla, he had failed to prepare for the next director's board meeting, sign off on contracts, contact subsidiaries, or even delegate tasks to Mac, who had slackened in his own right, preferring to take longer lunches and leave early without mention to his boss. Draco had not even bothered to set him straight on the matter. In fact, Draco spent his mornings at the café behind Flourish & Blotts, his afternoons brooding in his office and staring blankly out of his window, and the evenings drinking until he fell asleep in front of the fire. This pattern of behaviour continued until Friday.

He arrived at his office, late and hungover, walking straight past the empty assistant's desk into his office without observation, hoping to continue with his petulant, self-destructive routine.

"Hello, Draco." He almost lost his footing in surprise as he identified the voice. Carla sat, poised and elegant on the couch, looking up at him with amusement. He had not bothered to dress as usual, he had no tie, or jacket, and his shirt buttons weren't all done up.

"Carla!" His week long introversion had exposed his momentary agitation.

"Surprise!" she teased. "Although I can't see why you're so startled, we work in the same building," she observed, laughing lightly.

"Not at all, I just didn't see you when I walked in," he walked over to her, leaning down to peck her lips. She raised an eyebrow at him as he drew back and went to sit opposite her, his arms spanning over the back of the couch, and his feet propped up on the table.

"What?" he asked, slightly irritated by her penetrating stare.

"Oh, you know, I don't hear from you for a week and now you're kissing me hello during office hours?" Draco just shrugged, unperturbed by her observation.

"You can tell me if you're seeing someone else, I don't care, you know. I've given you space all week," she continued. Draco remained silent. He was so sexually frustrated he did not want to even be having this conversation. Could he even classify Granger as someone he was 'seeing'?

"Okay," she dragged to fill the silence. "I'm just going to come out and say this, Draco. You've been acting weird. I've seen you once in the last week, and the night we went out, you disappeared on me. What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on, I've had a lot on my mind and it's just been a busy week. My assistant hasn't been too useful either." Draco could not believe that he had been reduced to trying to explain himself. His was on the teetering on the precipice of blowing a fuse.

"Where's Mac?" she inquired accusingly, like Draco had driven him away. Well, he sort of had.

"I don't know. He's probably made some arrangement with himself to work on flexi time." Draco answered, indifferent to the whole situation. Carla tilted her head worriedly; Draco was never one for sarcasm when it came to business affairs.

"Flexi time?"

"Yeah, you know, as long as you work your contracted weekly hours, it doesn't matter when you do them. It's a muggle thing," he dismissed.

"I'm sure it is," she said rather flatly. "Do you want me to come back in the afternoon? You look like you need a few hours to wake up," she observed. Draco stood up and walked over to pour himself a firewhiskey. He had heard that muggles overcame hangovers by drinking more.

"Draco, it's ten thirty in the morning," she admonished.

"What's your point?" he retorted irately, not turning around when speaking _and_ purposely making his drink a double. "You want one?" She glared back at him, unimpressed.

Carla stood up and straightened her suit, "maybe I'll come back when you've sorted yourself out."

"You might be waiting a while," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" she quizzed.

"I said, fine," his tone blunt, his stare testing. Carla nodded once, her look almost knowing, and walked out without saying a word. Draco slumped himself in the couch, and gulped down his double in one breath. He was feeling better already until another knock at the door made him sneer at the interruption.

"What?" he bellowed. The door opened slightly and a young woman stepped in looking very much intimidated. Draco recognised her as the receptionist. She was smiling nervously.

"Mr Malfoy, sorry to bother you but – "

"Just call me Draco." He hated being called Mr. Malfoy unless it helped his cause. She nodded, fidgeting. He found it rather amusing, and flattering. All the women he had crossed paths with lately were far from intimidated by him. He smiled at her and ran his fingers through his hair, it fell back across his face, more dishevelled. He really needed a haircut, he reflected.

"Uhm…Draco, I have quite a few messages for you that don't appear to have come to your offices," she offered hesitantly brandishing a stack of office memos, written notes and owls received.

Draco immediately realised that Mac had not even bothered to collect his mail or owls, and he had not even noticed. He scowled at Mac's disrespect all because his ego had been bruised. He stood up and walked over to his desk, gesturing for the receptionist to follow. He sat down in his executive chair.

"Taka seat," he said. She obliged timidly. "I'm sorry, Miss?"

"Davies, Raven Davies, but most of my friends call me Ravi," she rambled. He noticed her jet black hair and smirked at the originality of her parents.

"So, Ravi, are these all from today, yesterday? Why did you wait until now to bring them to my attention?"

"Ah, I…uhm…I thought Mackenzie would follow up, I sent him two notes and came to your offices yesterday but no one was here. They have been coming in all week," she stammered, putting them down on the table in a neat stack.

"Yes, Mac hasn't been himself this week," he was really making an observation of his own behaviour. "Let's hope he hasn't caused too much damage." He was momentarily silent. "Well, since you know the order of their receipt, can you read them out? Mac usually does."

"Okay," she shrugged. He could see that she thought his request strange. It pleased him, which was a good thing since he had been lacking amusements all week.

She picked up the top and started to read, "_Attention Draco Malfoy, we request your presence at the upcoming board meeting of MC Solutions to enter presence into minutes of meeting on motions passed on new contracts._" She looked up at Draco waiting for his motion to move on. He had no idea when the subsidiary's next board meeting was. Where was Mac when you needed him? He took the parchment and created a 'consult with Mac pile'.

"Okay, next?"

"This one came on Tuesday from a Mr Blaise Zabini," she started, moving to unfold the parchments.

"That's okay, I can read this one," he realised and took it from her.

_'Mate, have you gone incognito? See Granger at Blue Diamond? Drop me a line, you bastard. What? Drink my wine and then ignore me?! _

_B' _

Draco laughed out loud for the first time in a week and promptly created a 'no action required' pile for good measure. He had forgotten Ravi was still in the room and smiled. He was feeling better already. "Any others from a Mr Blaise Zabini?" he asked with a hint of mirth in his voice. She nodded and retrieved about ten. He added them to the pile as well.

"What else?"

"This one is from the Ministry, Department of Muggle Relations. It states – "

Draco's attention was instantly caught and he cut her off, "I'll read that one myself, too." Ravi begrudgingly handed it over, feeling useless. He eagerly unfolded it, expecting something more than, '_Mr Malfoy, you are required under contract with the Ministry to meet bi-monthly with the Director of Muggle Relations. Please contact the department to schedule your next meeting._' It was signed off by her secretary. She had not even bothered to put her name to it. Draco's temperament changed instantly, he was outraged at her formality.

"That will be all Ravi, I won't waste your time any longer. You have shown initiative today, so I am appointing you as acting assistant until further notice." She smiled enthusiastically as he stood up. "I will be heading out so you can start now by taking Mac's post in the front office. Ask Carla to send one of her team to reception," he added for good measure and walked out.

ooo

A resounding zeal swept through the Ministry atrium as the midday crowds of office workers going to lunch and visitors rushing about only served to heighten Draco's incensed state. Everything was an obstacle in this place.

Finally, he reached the infamous lifts and rushed in, joining the crowd of people and inter office memos that hovered above him. "Draco Malfoy?" Great, he had to engage in small talk in his state. He turned to spot the owner of the voice behind him. He recognised Lavender Brown.

"Hi, Lavender," he half smiled, trying to be polite, but the memory of the night at Blue Diamond only served to rile him further.

"Did you have a good night on Saturday? Blue Diamond is quite the venue," she sparked up enthusiastically, indifferent to the eavesdropping occupants contained in the lift with them.

"Yeah, great place. You girls looked like you enjoyed yourselves," he replied, his temperament for feigned enthusiasm waning.

"It was a great night; we even got Hermione Granger to come out! She can be very fun when she wants to be," she laughed in recollection. Draco could only smirk, for so many reasons.

"Hermione Granger out at a night club? You must possess quite the power for persuasion," he replied civilly, trying to end the conversation. The lift came to a halt and the cage doors opened, he stepped out realising that this was the right floor. Lavender seemed to be following him.

"Do you work on this floor?" he asked, hoping to deter any questioning on her part.

"Yeah, in the licensing department, we share the floor with muggle relations. What brings you up here?" she asked; her tone curious.

"Business," he offered bluntly. Lavender regarded him quietly. They walked down the corridor in silence.

"Well, I'm down this way," she gestured to the left, "I take it you're heading to muggle relations?" she asked. She definitely was a clever conversationalist.

"I am," he replied curtly. "Nice to see you Lavender," he flashed her a smile which seemed to ease her inquiring expression.

"Yeah, you too, Draco, might run into you again at Blue Diamond," she winked and walked away. Her friendly gesture instigated an unlikely chuckle from him and he nodded and turned in the opposite direction. His appeasement was short lived as he reached the department. A girl scribbling away at a nearby desk caught his attention. He walked up to her and cleared his throat. She looked up. "Sorry to bother you, can you direct me to Miss Granger's office?" he asked, exercising his charming qualities. Sure enough, the girl blushed and returned his smile.

"Sure, if you just head past the meeting room to the right, her assistant, Daria, can help you. I haven't seen her today," she replied jovially, giggling slightly.

"Thanks, you're a great help. I've never been here before." She giggled again at his complimentary tone and watched him as he walked toward Granger's office. He spotted Daria, the assistant, instantly. Assertive yet friendly with a motherly quality; she looked like the type that would do anything for their superior. Draco approached her carefully, his expression inscrutable, his demeanour authoritative.

"Good afternoon, I'm here to see Miss Granger," he introduced. Daria looked up at him, her eyes lighting up with interest.

"She does not have any appointments scheduled," she replied evenly, indulging in her position of authority.

"Well that is because I didn't schedule an appointment," Draco stated, leaning over her desk.

"Well then Mr –"

"Malfoy," he smiled.

"Well, Mr Malfoy, I am afraid I can't help you."

"Please let Miss Granger know I'm here," he asserted, playing along.

"As I said, she has no meetings."

"I would like to schedule a meeting, then. I received an owl the other day requesting I do so."

"Oh, so you must be _Draco_ Malfoy," she emphasised with mock surprise.

"I am." Both his hands were firmly on the desk and he was leaning forward trying to catch a glimpse of the day planner as the assistant pulled it out from under her pile of parchment.

"Ok, Mr Malfoy, when would you like to make an appointment for?"

"Right now, I see Miss Granger has an opening," he pointed.

"I don't think meeting during lunch is very suitable, Mr Malfoy," she replied humorously. Draco could tell she had taken an interest in his effort to physically turn up and arrange an appointment.

"It suits me perfectly, I am hungry after all, and I doubt Miss Granger has eaten yet."

"You're right, she is always forgetting to eat, I have to remind her these days to take a break," she divulged.

"Well then, I would be doing you a service as well, by helping you make sure she eats lunch and ensuring she meets her work obligations by meeting with me," he offered resolutely.

"Very well, Mr Malfoy, just wait a moment and I will see if she's is happy to take lunch now. I can't make any guarantees." Draco stood up straight.

"Perhaps, I can be more convincing? Since I'm already here, and all." The assistant sighed with mental indecision. She nodded, finally.

"Thankyou, Daria," he drawled, unfazed by her incredulous stare and walked past, knocking on Granger's door before opening it and letting himself in.

ooo

The office was reasonably sized but the overflow of books, parchment and other clutter causing possessions bestowed a cosy environment, almost cacoon like. Granger had her back turned, facing the overstocked bookshelf in concentration. He had not seen her in a week, and her presence immediately stirred a wanton reaction. Draco shut the door behind him and stood there, staring at her with heated interest.

"Daria, can you order me some lunch? I might have to stay in today," she said with her back turned. He observed her relaxed demeanour; she was in her element.

"Daria?" She finally turned, he grinned wolfishly as her eyes widened in horror. He found himself feeling discontented by her sudden tensed state.

"What are _you _doing here?" she said tersely.

"What a way to greet your appointments, Granger," he retorted. She narrowed her eyes in confused contemplation.

"Since when do we have an appointment?"

"Well your lovely assistant was kind enough to slot me in for the lunch hour. She is very attentive," he sighed petulantly. He always had to prove himself around Granger.

"I never take meetings during lunch," she snapped defiantly.

"She made an exception on this occasion,. She is rather worried you haven't been eating properly lately. Granger, have you been eating properly?" he said earnestly.

"What business is it of yours?" Draco could tell she was uncomfortable with his act of concern.

"It is my business when I want to take a lunch meeting since I expect the person I am meeting with will eat," he reasoned.

"I'm busy," she snapped, walking over to her desk and placing the book on top of the convoluted arrangement of files and parchment.

"Granger, it is rather unprofessional of you to get into the habit of cancelling your meetings _after_ the person has turned up to your office."

"Very funny, Malfoy," she seemed to relax slightly.

"Funny enough to persuade you to not cancel your meeting?" She stood silent. "Granger, I don't want to have to beg on an empty stomach, it could become ugly," he cocked his head in a mock pleading fashion. He could see the corners of her mouth twitch and it stirred a feeling of success within him. Finally, she smiled.

"Ok, Malfoy, I will have this lunch meeting, but only because I don't want to see you get ugly," she replied lightly. He chuckled as she grabbed her suit jacket and handbag. He opened the door, and she raised an eyebrow at him questioningly as he gestured for her to exit first.

"Daria, I need to speak with you when I get back," she said hurriedly as they walked past her desk.

"Lovely to meet you Daria," Draco threw in to ease the tension.

"You too, Mr Malfoy," she smiled knowingly.

"Call me Draco." She was sold.

ooo

Granger walked up ahead as they made their way to the lifts. They waited in silence as Draco noticed her discomfort and thought it best not to stir any feelings that he was trying to antagonise her, which was proving extremely difficult on his part. He wanted to set the record straight and berate her about her informal owls but he remained silent. The lift cages opened and they stepped in. He stood next to her, that familiar scent of gardenia washing over him as he withheld a knowing smirk of their lift antics. She fidgeted, playing with the buckle on her handbag.

"Where do you normally go for lunch?" he finally asked.

"Uhm, my desk," she admitted.

"Wow, Granger, you really are a workaholic. Can't say I'm surprised though," he reflected. She sent him a warning glare. "Relax, there are worse things to be," he reassured, an undercurrent of suggestion in his tone.

"Right." Silence engulfed the lift once again as it descended to their destination upon which Draco exited into the familiar bustling atrium, only now with Granger standing reluctantly at his side. He turned to face her with exasperation as she appeared self-conscious in their very public surrounding.

"Cheer up, Granger, this is a business lunch, I'm not going to jump you," his said with such dry seriousness she blushed with fury.

"Remind me again why I agreed to this _business_ lunch?" she retorted sourly.

"Because it was scheduled," he grinned, amused at the circular nature of their conversation. He heard her groan wearily, which only served to make him guffaw involuntarily. It had the potential of being quite a delightful afternoon. They walked through the atrium to the fireplaces and stood in line to wait their turn.

"Well, since you lack knowledge on the lunching hour, I believe I am in the privileged position of selecting where we should eat."

"Nothing fancy, Malfoy, I just want a quick bite while we discuss the first issue." He couldn't help but infer things from her mention of bites and sent her a suggestive look. She looked back at him confused for a moment until realisation dawned, and she scrunched her face in disgust but said nothing. They finally reached the front of the queue.

"Where to Malfoy?"

"The Pumpkin Patch," he said decisively.

"The Pumpkin Patch?" she repeated standing in front of him, shooting him a look of distrust.

"It helps if you stand in the fireplace with some floo powder while you say it, Granger" he replied snidely. She responded by violently shoving her hand in the pot as she stepped into the great void and flung it down with anger, repeating the destination, her dark eyes locking with his as the flames erupted around her. He felt a sense of déjà vu overcome him, before realising the very circumstance was a replica of their interaction at the Ministry ball. In that moment, it dawned on him that the events which had since transpired had bestowed a permanent change in him. Draco followed suit, the green flames engulfing him and his thoughts as he was transported to the Pumpkin Patch.

* * *

A/N: Don't hate me...will post the second part shortly. It was a long chappie. I am sure you will have plenty of distraction anyway - namely, one Harry Potter movie! :p


	17. In deep: Part 2

**A/N: I am so overwhelmed by the number of hits this story received after my last post. Thanks heaps for reading. Please leave a review as well if you can! **

**And so it continues...**

**Chapter 17**

Hermione found her self stepping out of a public fireplace into a stone laced courtyard in front of a cosy restaurant. The façade had been overthrown by the curly vines and spanning leaves of a pumpkin patch. The name, in brass italics across the stone archway above the doorway was rather fitting. The only structural element visible was the quaint solid red door flanked by two circular lead lined windows that hinted at the art nouveau interior. She looked around, waiting for Malfoy to appear, feeling apprehensive.

She could not look past the fact that Malfoy had shown up at her department, requesting a lunch meeting. Especially after the way she had treated him. Not to mention the double crossing Daria who was clearly up to something by allowing it. That wasn't exactly run of the mill behaviour from her reliable assistant, but perhaps it was attributable to the fact that Malfoy had presented in all his physicality and authority at Daria's desk, oozing magnetism. She could see how one would easily submit to the request of Draco Malfoy. After all, she was the perfect example of exhibiting aberrant conduct whenever she found herself within a ten foot radius of the man.

Her thoughts were broken by the auditory signal of Malfoy's arrival. She turned to face him, feeling rather befuddled by his pensive expression. He was looking behind her, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, a gesture she had never witnessed in him. Hermione stood a few feet away, waiting, as she couldn't decide on what else to do. His uncommonly taciturn demeanour was unexpected, yet it drove the same reaction in her. She was the one left feeling discomfited. Finally, he walked over with a new found composure.

"Glad to see you made it," he said, directing his attention to her. It seemed his tendency for sarcasm had also returned.

"Where exactly are we?" Hermione asked touchily, feeling rather displaced.

"Ever been to Bath, Granger?"

"No," she replied, wondering what he was playing at.

"Correction, Granger, now you have," he stated with a look of triumph.

"Bath?"

"Are you going to repeat everything I say today as a question? Yes, Bath. Quaint, don't you think?" Hermione couldn't detect his tone and huffed in irritation.

"I only have an hour Malfoy, and you bring me to Bath?"

Malfoy blinked.

"It's not like you took muggle transport to get here!" he exclaimed.

"Whatever," Hermione retorted crossing her arms, and looking away. He had the ability to make her feel so insecure at times.

"Shall we go inside?" he finally asked, moving away from his usual temperament, a slight strain to his tone. Hermione felt obliged to nod and followed him through the red door, into the ambient, intricately decorated interior. Despite its décor, the place had an informal bistro atmosphere, filled with small round tables. They were promptly escorted to a seat near the front window, and handed menus. Hermione busied herself with it, avoiding the man sitting opposite her.

"All the food is organic," she heard him state behind her menu. She looked up; he was looking at her intently, his forearm rested on the table over the face down menu.

"I always order the same thing," he shrugged. She looked back down at her menu, feeling unease.

"I can recommend the lasagne." She scanned down and found it.

"I didn't pick you as someone who liked vegetarian food," she reflected behind her protective shield as she read the description.

"Not just any vegetarian food. But, yes, I do have a taste for it." Hermione was rather surprised by his admission, especially since she had always preferred it. She remained silent, pretending that she was still perusing over the selection of dishes when a waiter walked over.

"Are you ready to order?" the waiter asked. Hermione looked up and gasped when she saw who it was. His expression was also one of recognition.

"Hermione Granger?"

She nodded. "Hi, Damien," she greeted bashfully, noticing Malofy's heated interest in her periphery.

"Wow, you're looking well. What are you doing in Bath?" he asked enthusiastically, glancing at Malfoy questioningly.

"Day trip," she shrugged, knowing full well that muggle Damien would find it odd if she said she had just popped in for her lunch break. She recalled her mother mentioning that he owned his own business.

"Is this your restaurant then?" she asked, aware of her prying mind and couldn't help but feel like she was imitating her mother. He smiled.

"Yeah, I bought the business six months ago. It's keeping me busy," he chuffed. He looked over at Malfoy again. "I've seen you come in a few times," he said, "Do you live nearby?"

Malfoy straightened up, almost defensively. "No, but I have family here. You've got a good thing going here," he complimented. Hermione was in a state of disbelief. She was trying to remember Maryann's daughter's name so she could ask Damien about his fiancée, but it was to no avail. The last time she had seen her was at her mother's Christmas Eve dinner. She settled for the next best thing.

"Congratulations, by the way," she offered. "Mum told me about your upcoming nuptials."

He beamed. "Thanks, Hermione. It feels kind of weird. I mean, I never thought I would be getting married at twenty-six." Hermione smiled appreciatively.

"Are you both living in Bath?"

"No. We haven't decided whether we want to relocate. Sara's career is in London so we might just spend weekends here. I'm up here half the week anyway; my business partner runs it when I'm not here."

"That's okay then." She shot a glance at Malfoy who was staring at her inscrutably. She felt obliged to introduce him, but she had now idea how. "Damien, this is Dr- Draco Malfoy. He owns a company -" she frowned momentarily, realising that he really owned _multiple _companies, "-well, his company is currently involved in a project with my employer, which I am heading," she introduced. Malfoy was sporting a rather dignified smirk on his face but surprisingly lifted his hand to shake Damien's eager gesture.

"Hey, we have the same initials. I'm Damien Merriton," he joked. Hermione inwardly cringed at how Malfoy would respond.

"I'm sure that's not the only thing we have in common," he looked over at Hermione as he said it. She was astounded by his ability to read body language and instantly tensed. Damien laughed nervously.

"Yes, well. I guess you have an interest in organic produce?" he deflected. Hermione was experiencing a cringe worthy moment.

"Yes, quite an interest. Especially eating it." Hermione couldn't help herself laugh, but quickly quashed her unexpected response at Malfoy's raised eyebrow of amusement.

"So, what will it be today?"

"I'll have the lasagne," Malfoy provided. Damien looked over at Hermione expectantly, his eyes scanning over her. She closed the menu that was still in her hand.

"I think I'll try the lasagne too. I've heard good things about it."

"Great, you won't be disappointed. I've got some great wine you should try."

"Oh no, I can't drink," Hermione blurted. Damien and Malfoy both stared at her with curiosity; Malfoy's expression was much more telling.

"Why not, _Hermione_, it not like you have to drive," Malfoy stirred. She shot him a subtle glare but realised she had just been compromised.

"Oh, okay, I'll have a glass, if you insist."

"I certainly do, especially since I know you like your wine." Damien smiled. Hermione's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'll be back shortly."

"I thought you were more into champagne, Granger? But wine certainly does fare much better." He was becoming predictable.

"Great, Malfoy." She sighed aloud, eliciting a chuckled from the man opposite her who was looking extremely pleased with himself.

"You are so predictable, Granger." He shook his head as he continued to chuckle silently. Her jaw slackened at this comment and her eyes narrowed in reflection as she sat quietly, affected by the fact that his perception mimicked her own. She turned her body to side, so she was not facing him.

"Do you always get so wound up whenever anyone mentions you and alcohol in one sentence? Or, is it just around me? It really is amusing."

"Well, I find it rather disconcerting that the few times I have enjoyed a little too much drink, or a drink at an inappropriate time, you have always been present. So, forgive me for feeling slightly uncomfortable," she retorted tersely, shooting him a quick glare before turning her head and diverting her attention to the couple seated at the bar. They were really into each other; it was hard _not_ to look.

She spotted Damien walking back over with a whole bottle of wine. She groaned inwardly at his hospitality. Why did he have to offer wine, of all things?

Hermione had first met Damien on a grape grazing tour her mother had forced her to go on with Maryann's daughter a few years back. They had hit it off straight away, and had seen each other a few times after that in the spirit of holiday mode. She had certainly been surprised when she saw him on Maryann's daughter's arm a year later. She frowned at the fact that she was referring to her as Maryann's daughter when she had just been reminded of her name. Perhaps it was a sign of jealousy. She did remember Sara commenting on his looks when they first met him. Hermione reflected on the strangeness of how one comment in time could signal the future, forgetting that Malfoy was sitting opposite her. She smiled at Damien as he approached their table.

"You will love this, Hermione. Remember that winery tour?" She nodded. "Well I have contracted with them to supply me my house red. It's really popular with the patrons and the review on our sommelier, whose on leave today, was a definite boost for the restaurant."

"Sounds great," Hermione replied as Damien poured them each a glass and set the bottle on the table. "Enjoy. I'd love to stay and chat but it's pretty busy this time of day." Hermione was relieved to say the least and simply smiled back as she finally looked at Malfoy.

She could see that he was amused by the fact that Damien always directed his conversation to her, ignoring the presence of the infamous pureblood. It was rather ironic. He picked up his glass, swirling the contents and taking a sniff, like the perfect wine connoisseur. Funnily enough, she had not expected any less.

"What should we toast to, Granger? I can think of a few things," he grinned, glancing over at Damien.

"Let's just toast to a positive launch of the first issue of the magazine," she offered.

"A wise suggestion. To _Understanding Muggles_, then," he said. Hermione detected an obvious undercurrent of implied meaning to his statement and rolled her eyes before obliging his toast. It was ridiculous, to say the least. She took a sip of the wine; it brought back memories of the wine tour, before setting it down on the table.

"Your muggle friend is right; it is a great wine. It's too good for a house red." Malfoy finally spoke out after a long silence, as if he had been deliberating. "Where exactly is this winery?" he asked with obvious curiosity.

"Italy." Hermione saw his eyes light up with mischief. He smiled back at her knowingly.

"Why do I get the feeling you know which one it is?" Hermione replied.

"Let's just say I have a fair idea," he divulged.

"Please don't tell me you own it Malfoy."

"No, Granger, I don't own it. But, I've know the owner all my life." Hermione raised an eyebrow questioningly, frustrated by his minimal responses. He raised the glass to his lips and took another sip, a satisfied smirk appearing on his face.

A waiter came over with their meals, interrupting the progress of their conversation. Hermione was overwhelmed by the inviting aromas of the plate before her.

"It tastes better that it smells," Malfoy pointed. Eagerly, Hermione dug into her food, savouring the flavours with each bite. They ate in silence, only disturbed by the sound of their cutlery moving against their plates. It really was a sight to behold – Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, enjoying a peaceful lunch, both eating the same dish and drinking wine, in a muggle restaurant, in Bath. About halfway through their meal, they both picked up their wine, their eyes catching each other as they simultaneously drew back to pour some of the red liquid into their mouth. His penetrating stare made her smile nervously, lifting her hand to wipe away the little bit of wine that had escaped her glass as she had taken a rather generous sip.

"So what do you think?" he asked in a low voice.

"It's really good, everything is really nice," she responded vaguely.

"Everything?" She looked over at Malfoy. She had not yet noticed his lack of full business attire with his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and his hair looking unusually dishevelled. She felt strangely comfortable sitting and eating with him, despite the initial anxiety. Perhaps it was the fact that they were not in London? She felt guilty for giving off the impression that she did not want to be seen with him in public. It was purely out of fear. She was about to admit her thoughts when Damien wandered back over to check on them.

"How are you enjoying the food and wine?"

"It's great Damien, I will be recommending it to friends," Hermione replied, slightly relieved at the timed interruption. Malfoy continued to eat.

"Thanks, Hermione. That really means a lot. Are you heading back to London today?"

"Uhm, yes, we will be taking the train back this afternoon. We were just here on a research project." She was lying through her teeth and noticed Damien's disappointment.

"Oh, well, it was really great to see you, Hermione. I hope to see you at the wedding." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Nice to meet you Draco, we'll have a drink when you're next here." Malfoy nodded, extending his hand to Damien. Hermione still found their interaction extremely strange.

"He's a good guy, for a muggle," Malfoy spoke out, setting his knife and fork down, his plate empty of its contents.

"For a muggle? What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione snapped.

"Nothing! I am just inferring that I like the guy. Most muggles I deal with are through business, so it's not like I know them on a social level. Granger, don't be so presumptuous. I'm the one who recommended the place for lunch, knowing full well it was run by muggles," he retorted, irritated. Hermione felt a wave of guilt overcome her

"So, then why is there a public fireplace in the courtyard?"

"They host plays out there, so I guess the Ministry thought it was easily concealed to be part of a permanent set." She found it almost endearing how he went from being fractious to civil. Hermione glanced at her watch, it was well past the hour scheduled and they had barley brushed over any business issues.

"I think I should be heading back," Hermione reflected.

"What? You haven't even finished you food or glass of wine!"

"I can't eat much more, I become tired when I'm full," she admitted.

"That's ridiculous. Well, if you're no going to finish it, mind if I do?" Hermione was speechless. Malfoy wanted to eat her half-finished food. She shrugged, not knowing how else to react to this turn of events. He grabbed her plate and set it down over his, swiftly picking up his fork and digging in to the remainder of her lasagne. Hermione was rather flabbergasted by the intimate setting of their lunch meeting. Business associates did not finish each other's food. In her state, Hermione busied herself with her remaining wine, shooting Malfoy glances of disbelief as he polished her plate as well. He really had an appetite.

"Granger, I could say something crass but we are at the table, in a restaurant, so I'll hold of on this occasion. But don't look so surprised. I really like the food here." Hermione's imagination led her to the right train of his thoughts and she scowled in recollection. Not because she was disgusted by his implied reference, but because she wouldn't mind if it happened again. She glanced down at her empty glass, mentally berating herself for drinking.

"Well, Granger. This was quite the business lunch, but I actually need to report something back to the directors so what shall we agree on?" He looked over at her expectantly; Hermione was lost in a reverie of lustful, wishful desires. She heard nothing.

"Granger?"

"Hermione?" She instantly snapped out of it at the resonating sound of her name. She blinked and looked at him.

"Hmmm?" He smirked.

"I was just saying Granger, that I need to report something back, so, what is the status on the first issue?" he stressed.

"Oh, sorry," she mumbled. "Well, final mock up has been signed off by the Minister, he is happy with the layout and choice of adverts and articles. It's going off to print on Monday, I'm just going to read through it over the weekend and sign off on the printing approval. Did you want to take a look?"

"No, I trust your judgement. I expect a couple copies, and any concerns I have we can fix up in the next issue. Right, well that was easy enough. Shall we?" Hermione nodded apprehensively. Malfoy withdrew his wallet from his pocket and opened it, placing a fifty pound note on the table. It was very strange seeing Malfoy with muggle currency. It felt like they were two simple muggles enjoying a lunch, no history of blood status, or magic behind them. She stood up and walked to the exit, with Malfoy following behind.

They stepped out into the courtyard; she almost slipped as her heel caught in the grooves between the cobbled stone ground as Malfoy grabbed her arm to hold her upright.

"Thanks," she muttered, sensing his proximity and the thrilling sensations his grip on her stirred. She composed herself and looked up at him. He was mildly amused, and glanced down at her shoes with interest, but remained silent for a few moments.

"Tell me, Granger, why do you insist on avoiding me and maintaining formalities in London, when you were perfectly at ease to lunch alone with me in Bath?"

He was still holding her arm, albeit more gently, and had averted his attention back to her eyes.

She felt obligated to answer. "Malfoy, I am trying to make sense of what happened between us, and I just can't. This whole situation or whatever we have going on makes no sense. You still rile me to no end, yet at the same time, we slept together. You tell me what I should think?" she sighed with relief that she had spoken her mind.

"I don't know what you should think. I have no answers, because I feel exactly the same," he admitted, his tone level and sincere.

"So…what now?" she asked hesitantly.

"I really don't know," he shrugged, leaning forward. Hermione stood still, her eyes on his lips only inches from hers. It was the middle of the day, exactly one week from the event, and she could feel herself losing control again.

"My place or yours?" she whispered. He pulled back, completely slack jawed at her initiation before sending her a mischievous look. In the next moment she could feel the familiar pull marking the state of apparition.

* * *

A/N: Well, at least they have acknowledged their attraction. LOL!


	18. The Second Act

**Disclaimer: HP rights belong to JKR.**

A/N: A very quick update, it's slightly shorter, but an important chapter. I was so excited to finally reach 100 reviews! Yay! Thanks again, especially to the loyal readers!

**Chapter 18**

The change of scenery did nothing to affect Hermione's state of mind in the slightest. As the signs of a successful apparition surrounded her, she found herself against a wall, Malfoy firmly pressed against her, his lips on hers in an instant. His kisses were frantic, like he was making up for a prolonged deprivation. Hermione was not too far off as she circled her arms around his neck, pulling him in further, their mouths locked in a sated passion as he cupped her face with his warm, masculine hands. He moaned into her mouth, her fingers scraping against his scalp, before he brought one hand down to the apex of her skirt, goading it up as his hand slid underneath and traced it along her thigh up to her core. The sensation was thrilling as he began to lower her panties, while their mouths battled their lust.

Hermione released her hold on him, as he attacked that familiar spot on her neck while she caught her breath and moved her hands down to his belt. She knew it would be different to the first time, her desire driving her to submit as quickly as possible as she hastily undid his belt, pushing him back and allowing her fingers to tuck into waistband of his boxers as she knelt down and pulled. Malfoy's hands were splayed against the wall for support; she could hear his heavy breathing. Seeing him exposed and ready to take her only served to heighten her need as she stared at his throbbing shaft. She looked up at him, his eyes were almost black with the same covet she was certain was emanating from her every pore.

"Come here, Hermione," he growled huskily, grabbing her arm and lifting her upright, trapping her between him as his lips crashed back down onto hers with a fierce abandon. She was lost in a whirlwind of yearning, her hands travelling down his chest, pulling at the buttons of his shirt so forcefully, they snapped off around them to seek access to skin. Her skirt was around her waist, baring her to him as his hands circled around her hips, suddenly gripping and motioning to lift her. Realising her shoes were still on she motioned to take them off. "Leave them on," he breathed. She grabbed hold of his shoulders as she felt herself sliding up against the wall, her legs wrapping themselves around him instinctively and her heels digging into him, as he rested between her. There was no waiting as he thrust into her and they both groaned into each others mouths at the final contact. She pulled away, staring into his eyes fixed on her. He started to move against her, the wall acting as support as she abandoned herself to the primal motions of his hungry thrusts. Their eyes locked on each other, she could see him straining to maintain pace.

"More," she whispered, her lips brushing over his ever so gently, counteracting their most intimate contact. She leaned her head back against the wall as he took her harder, and faster, his head buried in the crook of her neck and shoulder, his motions hitting against her sensory nub, searing her core and leaving her breathless. In one final thrust she tipped over the edge, as she contracted around him, moaning aloud, uninhibited by the satisfaction he had brought over her. His final growl signalled his climax as she felt him throb within her, and the spill of his pleasure engulfing her, prolonging her state of euphoria.

Hermione let out a small sigh of approval as she brought her head down and kissed his lips softly. They were still locked together as he brought his hand up, running his fingers through her hair before holding her gaze.

"I never expected to welcome you to my place in this way," he said, his voice deep, his lips a breath a way from hers. Hermione could not help but smile at his timing for smart comments.

"Is this the beginning of the grand tour, Draco Malfoy?" His eyes lit up in amusement as he circled his hands around her waist and lifted her all too easily from his hold. Hermione's feet touched the floor as she rolled her skirt back down to acceptable length. She looked over to see Malfoy fastening his belt, a gleam of mischief in his expression as she followed his gaze to her abandoned panties on the polished floorboards nearby. Hermione felt a blush escape her as she walked over, the sound of her heels on the timber echoing throughout what appeared to be a hallway and she swiftly collected the evidence.

"Hermione Granger, a poster girl for decorum, I never would have guessed," he laughed. She rolled her eyes.

"Draco Malfoy, the quintessential alpha male who just has to have the last word. Not even sex can dampen the urge."

"Sex, Granger, only serves to inflame such tendencies." He walked over to her and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Would you like me to finish the grand tour?" he asked suggestively. Hermione felt like she was in a parallel universe. She regarded the man standing before her with his undone shirt, his chest bare for her perusal.

"No, I think I should be returning to work. Daria will be wondering where I've got to," she replied sensibly. It was probably the worst timing for sensibilities, but it was too late to retract.

Malfoy straightened up instantly, his notorious demeanour of haughty indifference returning. "Granger, if I recall correctly, this was your idea. So, do what you want." He turned around and walked down the hall, out of sight. Hermione stood there, feeling torn. On one had she had abandoned all inhibitions by allowing herself to shag Malfoy, very willingly, yet on the other hand, the changing dynamic of their relationship, acquaintanceship, or whatever it could be classified as, left her feeling vulnerable and anxious. She was so used to her well established interaction with Malfoy that the admission of attraction was a little too overwhelming. She mentally scolded herself - everything was her own doing.

Hesitantly, Hermione walked in the direction that Malfoy had disappeared to until she arrived in what looked like the living area. Malfoy was standing at the window, his back to her, talking on the phone. She had to double take as she saw the muggle contraption glued to his ear.

"…no the late notice is not a problem, it would be beneficial for both parties to resolve this before the weekend…okay…I'll see you then." He hung up the phone and threw it on the nearby couch as he turned around sighing; shoulders slightly slumped until he noticed her standing on the opposite end of the room.

"I didn't mean for it to come out that way," Hermione started, feeling obligated to explain herself. Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair as he eyed her irately.

"Whatever, Granger, I have somewhere to be, so if you don't mind, it looks like we both have a busy afternoon." It was hard to believe that a moment ago, they were both so intensely into each other and, now, the air was so thick with awkward tension that Hermione could not help but instantly put up her barriers in retaliation. She nodded. "Well, uhm, thanks for lunch," she replied tersely, feeling stupid for not having left in the first place. Malfoy put his hands in his pockets and just stared at her blankly, his mouth twitching at the corners. He finally let out a hearty laugh, and shook his head, looking up at the ceiling as he if had reached an internal realisation. Hermione frowned back at him.

"Granger, are we back to where we started? Is it going to be like this every time?" he drawled.

"I don't know what you mean," she defended hotly.

"_This_ is exactly what I mean. We go from fucking each other's brains out, to barely tolerating each other. Which is it Hermione?" Malfoy was almost pleading with her as she stood tense, noticing his slip up in using her first name. She looked down at her shoes, focusing her attention on the patent surface of her black pumps.

"Maybe it's because I don't know how you want me to react," she muttered, thinking about the events preceding their current predicament. "I'm so used to how things were."

Malfoy sighed petulantly. "Well if we are going to play the honesty card, if you ask me, things haven't been anywhere near what they _were _for a while." He pulled his hand out of his pocket to glance at his watch. "I have to go," he affirmed, his face contorting into an expression of discontent and puzzlement.

"I won't keep you," Hermione replied, focusing her attention on the art work that filled the space. Malfoy's apartment epitomised taste, and was so perfectly coordinated it made her feel intimidated to be standing there. The colour scheme of a combination of subtle greens and warm earthy hues was inviting, yet oozed sophistication. She turned and walked back down the hallway to collect her bag, her favourite pumps leaving a footprint of a somewhat melancholy stride. Picking up her belongings, she sighed aloud as the vision of their hallway tryst engulfed her.

"Hey Granger!" She turned to see Malfoy standing on the opposite end of the hallway, his manner guarded. "You've been to Chanti right?"

Hermione nodded.

"Interested in going again this weekend?" She was silent in contemplation. This was by far the most unexpected request. "I figure we can _try_ to get to know each other away from London, seeing as though you prefer it that way." Hermione took a moment to absorb what he had just said. Draco Malfoy wanted to spend time with her, and he was willing to compromise to do it. Once again, she noticed his recently acquired gesture of his hand rubbing the back of his neck, somewhat unsure of himself as he waited for her response.

Hermione tilted her head to one side, half smiling. "Okay, Draco Malfoy, I'll come to Chianti with you… on one condition." His hand dropped back down as he seemed to relax, like his pride had been relieved of any impending threats.

"And, what's that?" he asked slyly.

"That you don't make me drink the wine," she stated brazenly, promptly apparating, but not before she caught a glimpse of his notorious smirk. Hermione Granger had finally stepped out of the confines of her mental shoebox.

ooo

Arriving back at the Ministry, Hermione swiftly returned to her office, realising that she had been out for over two hours. She dreaded the look Daria gave her as she walked past her desk toward her office.

"How was lunch?" Daria asked innocently. Hermione hoped she didn't look like someone who had just been shagged by a business associate but stopped to address her.

"Fine, I'll be working on the monthly report this afternoon so can you bring me the stats on the number of incidents involving muggles that required Ministry assistance to manage risk? I think law enforcement should have some stats that we can rely on as well."

Daria was blatantly eyeing her with interest as Hermione rambled on about statistics and such other things that were not warranted on a Friday afternoon. It really was a poor attempt at changing the subject and focusing on matters that were work related. "What?" she finally asked the prying assistant.

"That Draco Malfoy is quite the attractive man. I'm surprised you've never mentioned him."

"There's nothing to mention," Hermione defended.

"He was really eager to meet with you today, even though his deadline wasn't until next week."

"Well he's a very busy man so it must've been urgent for him to get it out of the way if he had to come all the way here," Hermione attempted to rationalise. Daria shrugged in reflection.

"I guess, but I don't mind him turning up in person to make appointments. I enjoy a bit of eye candy now and then. But, don't tell Richard that," Daria admitted, winking.

"Right, well no, I won't be telling Richard that you like to perve on younger men and, anyway, I doubt Mr Malfoy will be presenting himself here any time soon."

"Don't shatter my hopes, Hermione; the whole office was buzzing after you left. We almost had to restrain Cat, she was so excited that _the_ Draco Malfoy had spoken to her. You should have heard her! The poor girl needs to meet a nice young man." Hermione inwardly laughed, Malfoy was far from _nice_.

"Enough talk about Draco Malfoy, I think I've had enough of him for the day," Hermione inwardly groaned at her reference as she walked into her office.

* * *

A/N: Thrilling escapades. LOL! :p


	19. A Slice of Tuscany: Part 1

**A/N: Well well, the weekend away awaits. I had quite the weekend myself. Randomness is always interesting. Bogans, midget conventions. :p Anyhoo, moving along, I think this is where we will see a permanent change begin to unfold in the lovely Hermione and devilish Draco. LMK your thoughts! **

**Chapter 19**

It was Saturday morning, Hermione awoke to the sound of heavy rain hitting against her bedroom window. She pulled to duvet tighter around her, trying to ignore the building anxiety of the weekend ahead. Why had she agreed to go away to Chianti with Malfoy? It just brought with it undue pressure and a guilty anticipation that was extremely unnerving. She rolled over to her side to check the time on her bedside clock. It was ten in the morning and she still wanted to stay curled up and caccoon like. Hermione never slept past nine on the weekends.

The phone rang. Hermione groaned.

Begrudgingly, she threw the covers off in a huff, sat up, pausing momentarily, before leaning over her bedside table in reach of her wand. She was actually lazy enough to _accio_ the phone to her from across the room. It was laughable.

"Hello?" her voice was groggy from her sleepy state.

"Morning, Granger." It could only be one person.

Startled awake, Hermione responded. "Malfoy?" she spoke into the receiver with sudden incredulity.

"Don't be so surprised, Granger, you're listed." Hermione rolled her eyes, silently admitting defeat. She had discovered only yesterday that the man used muggle phones so it didn't seem a far stretch that he could call a muggle operator.

"So, it seems." She heard a muffled chuckle from the other end.

"I was thinking of taking a portkey this morning, before the rush. Apparently, it's a busy weekend for trips to Italy."

"Oh, uhm, ok," she replied distractedly as realisation dawned that her acquiescence to go to Chianti with Malfoy was concrete fact. There was silence from the other end.

"Granger, if I'm wasting my time, just tell me, okay?" he finally spoke out, a hint of annoyance in his voice. In truth, Hermione was just having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that she was speaking to Malfoy, via a telephone. The sound of his voice alone was…alluring. Even though she couldn't see him, it portrayed him down to a tee; a collected, cool baritone, with a note of confidence that hinted at a slight cheekiness, mixed in with the indefatigable drawl of the pureblood Slytherin. She suddenly realised she was yet to formulate a response.

"No, no," she tried to reassure, "I just kind of woke up," she admitted. She hit her forehead in reprimand.

"Well, there is no real need to pack much, the weather is mild, and we will be staying at Zabini's estate."

"Blaise Zabini?" Hermione faltered warily. Did she really want to accompany Malfoy to Zabini's estate? What would he think?

"Yes, Granger, Blaise Zabini," she could sense the amusement in his voice, like he was testing her.

"Fine, is there anything else I should know?" she replied with mock sarcasm.

He might have a few friends there this weekend," he stated with a tone of indifference, like it meant nothing, when if fact, Hermione could feel the onset of a panic attack. She was trapped. "Granger, really, it's fine. I have it all covered. I'll talk to you when I see you."

"Okay…uhm, what time and where?" she finally asked.

"I'm arranging a private portkey from my office, so can you be there in an hour?" Hermione looked at the clock – it was 10:15.

"Can we say 11:30?" He chuckled again.

"Alright, Granger, 11:30 it is. See you then."

She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, the phone dead in her hand, before throwing it over her shoulder and getting on with it.

Hermione rushed through her morning routine, decided on her outfit, and hastily filled her charmed bag with various clothes and shoes, not giving much thought to what she was actually throwing in. She promptly apparated with a half eaten piece of toast in her hand, in an act of boldness.

ooo

The familiar building stood ominously in what was usually a busy street during the working week. Hermione walked up to the entrance and immediately realised she had a problem. The doors would not open, and she didn't have a pass to enter the muggle building. Her watch read 11:30. Realising that Malfoy had probably forgotten to mention this key bit of information; she stood, shut out from her destination on the deserted street, knowing that a simple _alohamora_ was of no use.

"Shit," she muttered. "Now what?" she asked herself out loud. She walked over to the security sensor that an ordinary muggle would swipe their pass over and looked at it blankly. The little red light taunted her. She pressed it, as if to acknowledge her discontent at muggle security measures. The little light switched to green, and to her surprise the doors opened. Hermione shook her head, smiling, as she walked through the familiar foyer, took the lift up to level 10A and walked through the imposing glass doors, which were thankfully unlocked. The reception desk was empty, adding to the ghostly atmosphere of the place as she turned in the direction of Malfoy's office.

His office door was open, yet if felt strange to walk through it, knowing what had transpired on her previous visit to the offices of Draco Malfoy. She hesitantly stepped in, knocking on the door to draw his attention to her presence. He was seated on the couch, leaning over a pile of paperwork which rested on the rustic coffee table. He looked up at her, smiling. She felt strangely nervous at his relaxed demeanour and couldn't remember if she had ever seen him in jeans.

"Hi, sorry I'm not on time, did we miss the portkey?" she asked apologetically.

He shook his head. "I realised after I spoke to you that I didn't explain how to get in after hours. I was going to come down and let you in but looks like you worked it out…as expected. The portkey is scheduled for 11:45."

"Well, I got lucky," she shrugged. She felt his gaze on her as she walked over to the couches.

"You really did pack light eh?" he commented as she sat down on the arm rest, resting her bag in her lap.

"It's charmed," she offered. "Magic does have its benefits." She couldn't help herself. Malfoy cocked an eyebrow humourously, as he stood up and walked over to her. It was strange to be in his company where there was no work agenda guiding it along.

"Ready to go?" he asked, holding out his hand. Hermione looked down at it; she had never noticed that he wore a ring on his right ring finger. She gingerly placed her hand in his, a warm feeling overcoming her as she felt the distinct pull of an activated portkey.

ooo

Hermione found herself standing next to Malfoy, her hand still in his, in the inner courtyard of a sandstone palazzo. She didn't realise she was squeezing his hand as he took in her surroundings, her breath caught. Malfoy looked over at her, his expression inscrutable.

"Do you want to see the estate or head inside first?" he asked. Coming to her senses Hermione turned to Malfoy.

"I don't mind," she replied timidly. She only realised her hand was in his, when she found herself being led through the stone archway, which was covered with the vines of a budding bougainvillea plant, into the midday sun of a vast property.

"Wow," was all she could manage, her mind drifting off into a romantic reverie as she gaped incredulous at the acres of wine yard and the immediate gardens.

"It's no wonder Blaise spends a good deal of time here," the man standing next to her said. She shifted her attention; realising Malfoy was looking at her. Her cheeks flushed, and she let go of his hand as her awareness returned.

"The ring, it was the portkey," he pointed, bringing it up to show her. "I never usually wear it."

"That's rather clever, a wearable portkey," she replied, gazing at what looked like a family crest, embossed into the gold ring which had three emerald stones set at the points forming the 'M'.

"I thought so," he added, looking straight ahead once more. "Well, we should probably make our arrival known." Hermione followed him silently, too absorbed in her new surroundings to speak.

She could hear voices as they turned a corner of the historic mansion and an outdoor courtyard with an al fresco dining set up came into view, housing several people at the table. Draco led her up the steps toward the group. Hermione finally recognised Blaise sitting at the table, Padma next to him. Blaise looked up first as they approached; his eyes fell on her and she was certain she caught an almost knowing smirk before he smiled and averted his gaze on Malfoy.

"Draco!" he called out, standing up as they arrived at the table. Hermione felt the scrutiny of the other guests on her.

"Hi Hermione," he came over and kissed her on each cheek. "Glad you could make it; Draco mentioned you were in Rome as the Minister's delegate at the international conference and I told him to invite you along." He smiled, that knowing look in his eye making another momentary appearance. Hermione looked at Draco questioningly, with a slight bewilderment, before answering. She felt like a deer in headlights as the other guests observed her.

"Good to see you Blaise. The place is amazing from what I've seen," he beamed at her compliment. Padma had stood up to greet Draco, before coming over.

"Hi, Hermione! I was so excited that another girl might be coming, these boys can get a little too much by the end of the weekend," she kissed her cheek.

"Padma, darling, my attention is always on you," Blaise cut in, kissing Padma as she rolled her eyes at Hermione. "Take a seat." He gestured them toward two empty seats at end of the table. Hermione took the one next to Padma, and Draco was on the end.

"Everyone, this is Hermione Granger, and you all know Draco. We all went to school together. Hermione, meet Giorgio and Selena Vinesi, they are my neighbours, Marcus Finetti, a business partner and wine expert, and Sebastian Parker, a friend from London.

"Hello," Hermione greeted, as she sat down. Draco took his seat next to Hermione and reached for the wine. He poured himself a glass and set it down, grinning at her complacently, like he should be rewarded for remembering that she didn't want to drink. She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling at him for his exaggerated emphasis. He reached for the water decanter and poured her a glass.

"So, you have been friends a long time then?" Selena Vinesi spoke up with a thick accent, regarding Hermione curiously. She was fashionably dressed in a cherry coloured jersey dress made of a fine wool that only served to enhance her flawless olive skin and bring out her dark eyes and chestnut hair. Her husband, Giorgio was older in years but carried himself with equal debonair, dressed in a loose linen shirt and slacks, his hair slicked back.

"Not exactly, we moved in different circles at school." Hermione gave a diplomatic response. She was not sure of the label she would give her relationship with Draco, or Blaise and Padma for that matter.

"The golden trio," Sebastian affirmed, looking at Hermione with heated interest. She galnced back; he had a sharp look about him, with his chiselled features, intelligent eyes and dirty blonde hair. He seemed to be about their age.

"Yes, of course, _the_ Hermione Granger, now I remember. Harry Potter's friend, he's now a quidditch star, is he not?" Selena continued.

She nodded. "He's currently playing for the English team," Hermione offered, relieved to move away from the topic of how they all knew each other.

"Yes, the wife doesn't stop talking about him. They'll be playing Italy shortly. I have my tickets already reserved. I make a point to go to the games with her, but she seems to forget her husband is sitting next to her when she carries on about him. Imagine when I tell her I met his friend!" Marcus spoke out, his eyes twinkling with amusement at Hermione. She could not help but laugh with the others at his manner of speaking. He was a dashing, easy going man in his mid thirties, with dark cropped hair, a five o'clock shadow and warm eyes. His wife was very lucky, Hermione thought.

"Quidditch, it is such a bore, I haven't been to a game in years. I tell Giorgio to go with his friends," Selena added, patting her husband on the arm. He smiled over at her.

"Draco and I are definitely huge fans," Blaise said. "We're really involved with the English team this year."

"Ah, so the MC logo on their uniform is your company?" Giorgio asked Draco.

"Well, half a million galleons will earn you that right," Draco joked. They all laughed. Hermione turned to look at him, quietly surprised. He sent her a fleeting look in kind.

"So, Hermione, how _did_ you all become re-acquainted after Hogwarts?" Sebastian asked. She wasn't safe after all.

"Well," she started, "The Ministry, through my department, is working with Mal- Draco's company, on a project at the moment; we pretty much became re-acquainted, as you put it, through that. I know Blaise through Draco, and also through my friend's wife who is good friends with Padma," she explained, feeling extremely strange at addressing Malfoy as _Draco_ in the company of others. She had already decided that Sebastian was her least favourite person at the table, for his inquisitiveness.

"Seems like MC has their foot in everything," Sebastian reflected, smiling back at her, before looking over at Malfoy. Hermione immediately re-considered her dislike, for he had voiced an opinion she harboured, albeit a slightly more critical version. She heard Malfoy quietly scoff next to her.

"Sebastian writes for the Prophet," Blaise said, as if that explained his outlook. "Damn good writer though," he added.

The food appeared, in a buffet style, and they all dug into a delightful Italian cuisine. Hermione was overwhelmed by the number of dishes.

"Try the olive paste with the crustini," Draco leaned over, offering her the plate.

"Okay, Mr food critic," she joked and took one, scooping up the olive dip and placing the whole thing in her mouth. He raised an eyebrow of surprise before passing the plate on.

The lunch continued thus, with Malfoy constantly asking her to try different foods, focusing his attention on her with such intensity, it was unnervingly flattering, although he did maintain subtlety by showing his interest with his eyes only. He spoke like any other person who was introducing someone to unfamiliar cuisine.

"This prosciutto is the best I've had; you need to have a slice." She obliged, eating the whole slice challengingly in one bite. Water was required to mollify her tastebuds of the salty shock.

"Blaise grows these tomatoes on the property; they taste great with the basil and olive oil dressing."

"This homemade pumpkin ravioli is unbeatable. Family recipe. I'm still trying to coax it out of his mother."

His attention continued through to dessert.

"You have to try the zabaglione, and dip it like this with the almond biscotti."

Hermione was so full at the end of it, she wanted to lie on her back and fall into a slumber. She enjoyed the food, the company, and even realised she had quite a few interests in common with Padma. She also took a liking to Selena and Marcus. Hermione could not believe that the afternoon had passed so quickly when the lunch guests finally stood up to leave.

"Blaise this was fantastic, as always. Next time, I am hosting. Selena is eager to entertain now that the weather is improving." Giorgio said. "Hermione, it was a pleasure to meet you," he kissed each cheek, "you must come to our place next time. Selena will owl you."

"Lovely to meet you, Giorgio, I would love to." Hermione replied. Giorgio was such a suave man; she couldn't help but fall for his charm.

"Hermione, you must come over, and bring Draco too, he seems to really love Italian food. Either that, or he is really into you," Selena said earnestly as she kissed her goodbye. Hermione laughed, trying to hide her shock at the observation. What could she say to that?

"I should go too, the wife is going to be back from her girls' weekend, she'll expect me ready and waiting for her with open arms," Marcus said, his dry humour bringing a smile to Hermione's face. "Padma, lovely to see you, Blaise, I'll be in touch tomorrow about that muggle contract."

"Draco, for half a million galleons, think you can get me a signed Potter photo?" he asked Draco.

"I'm sure Hermione can get you one for free," he replied as they shook hands.

"Touché," he responded as he turned to Hermione. "A pleasure to meet you, I'm sure we'll see more of each other." He kissed her goodbye.

The sound of apparition of the departing guests surrounded them.

"Seb, are you going to hang around for a few more drinks?" Blaise asked.

"Sure, why not, I don't have a wife to go home to." Hermione felt his gaze on her as he responded.

"Nice, I think we should move to the gardens then, might throw a quaffle around too. What do you think Daco?"

"Works for me," he shrugged walking over to Hermione. "Do you want to put your bag inside first?" he asked her. He was being awefully considerate she was speechless.

"Of course, Hermione," Blaise interjected. "Padma, do you want to show Hermione to a room?"

"It's okay, I'll show her, I'll grab the broom sticks anyway," Draco replied definitively and led Hermione into the magnificent house.

ooo

Hermione was too busy absorbing the elegance of the spacious guest room that overlooked the courtyard they had apparated into, that she didn't notice Draco come up behind her until his lips were on her neck. It startled her that he wanted to do anything in the middle of the day, in Blaise's house, with other people downstairs who happened to be waiting for them to return.

"I don't think it's a good idea," she faltered as he brushed her hair aside and he kissed down her neck. "Draco!" She pulled away and turned to face him. It was the worst move she could make as he caught her lips in a kiss, backing her up until she felt the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed.

His lips were fierce, the sweet taste of their dessert still lingering on his tongue as he flicked it into her mouth. She felt herself submitting to his ministrations, as he pushed her back onto the bed and climbed over her.

"I've been wanting to do this all day," he said, the lust in his voice apparent. He was hovering over her, his eyes taking her in as she looked up at him.

"I think that's the wine talking," she smiled, relieved that she hadn't drunk anything. He guffawed at her remark and brought his face closer to her.

"Wrong Granger, it's what's underneath this lovely little top you're wearing, and these enticing jeans, and especially those red shoes." He stated frankly, reaching down to her feet and pulling one off, thenn the other.

"Malfoy, I can't do this!" she re-affirmed, a little too playfulling and thoroughly unconvincing.

"I'll help," his lips came down to hers once more, silencing her protests, as his hand travel down over her breasts, across her stomach and to her waist. Hermione, feeling that wanton sensation, admitted defeat and returned his kisses with equal fervour.

"We have to be quick," Hermione breathed between kisses.

"I can do quick," she felt the smile form on his lips as he moved to her neck and licked the spot behind her ear that sent her into a fit of giggles as she relished the ticklish sensation.

"Stop that!" she breathed through laughs, as she pushed him off her and sat up, removing her top. He smirked and followed suit. She knelt up on the bed and undid his jeans pulling them down to expose his boxers. He did the same to her as she sprawled back on the bed, lifting her hips so he can pull them all the way down. They were now both in their undergarments.

He kissed a trail all the way down her body to the waistband of her panties, and he tugged at them slightly with his mouth. She knew he was teasing her since she was worried about the time. In retaliation, she rolled them over so she was on top, sitting across his lower abdomen, legs on either side.

"Malfoy, I am not going to do this if you keep mocking me," she said sharply, her heart beating fast at her brazen actions. He lifted his hands up in defeat.

"Okay, Granger, I'll let you take the lead," he smirked. Hermione tilted her head to the side in mock consideration.

"I thought you were worried about taking too long?" he reminded, grinning up at her. The whole scenario was unimaginable; Hermione had not even considered such an outcome as her face straightened in thought. She looked back at the man she had once disliked for everything he stood for, and yet, he now roused an entirely different feeling within her. She felt desirable.

His grin faded as he returned her gaze, solemn, contemplative. He propped himself up on his elbows.

"Granger, I have never known anyone to sink into deep thought when sex is on the table," he said with such sincerity, Hermione, ordinarily would have felt the need to combat his statement, especially with that sly grin forming. She could see his eyes twinkle in anticipation at his statement, but gave it no heed, instead moving off him, and lying on her back next to him, staring up the stucco on the ceiling. Malfoy turned to his side, his fingers feathering her arm. She closed her eyes, reacting to his light touch, and sighed.

"I can't do this now, Malfoy." She sat up, her back to him. She heard him shift behind her, as he stood up off the bed and began re-dressing in silence. She watched him.

Hermione didn't know what made her reject his advances, but something was amiss. She could not see his irritation but the tell tale sign of his petulance was in his stance. He looked at her once, an element of resignation apparent in his eyes, before walking out.

* * *

A/N: It's not over yet! :p


	20. A Slice of Tuscany: Part 2

**A/N: Finally! It took me a while to get this out, but I hope the wait was worth it. Another dive into Draco's POV this time round. LMK your thoughts! **

**Chapter 20**

Draco, too pre-occupied with his thoughts, hadn't realised that he had reached the room that housed the quidditch gear. He stormed in, hastily grabbing a few broomsticks and the quidditch box, all the while thinking of Granger. He felt so frustrated, and not just mentally. Granger really knew how to rile him, that much was certain, but now, he couldn't even bring himself to challenge her on it. One minute she had succumbed to his advances, only to turn him away suddenly. He was over it, and nothing had even begun. Decidedly, Draco came to the conclusion that he would treat her with indifference, since she definitely couldn't deal with his attention.

He scowled openly as he walked out of the room. Perhaps if he told her that Blaise already knew they had slept together, she'd get over whatever pre-occupation or reservations she was battling with. It didn't help that Blaise's journalist friend was hanging around either. Sebastian Parker was a rat.

He walked through the internal courtyard, looking up at Granger's window. She was standing there, staring out blankly. He looked away, not wanting to catch her gaze and walked ahead into the gardens.

"Draco, where's Hermione?" Padma asked as his presence became known. She was sprawled on a sun chair nearby, sunglasses on, staring out. He set down the quidditch equipment before answering.

"Probably getting changed," he offered. "Blaise, let's get the firewhiskey out. Sebastian, you drink firewhiskey?" he stated more than asked.

"Sure, why not," he shrugged, checking out the brooms.

"Alright, only a few though. I still want to be able to navigate myself on a broom." Blaise called the house elf and made the request. "What does my lovely fiancé want to drink?"

Padma lifted her sunglasses, eyeing her husband suggestively, before placing them back on. Blaise walked over, reaching down to plant a sweet kiss on her lips. "Plenty of time for that Padma, perhaps some butter beer to warm you up?"

"Sure," she replied indifferently, before smiling. Draco watched their exchange with derision.

"Anything for you honey," Blaise mocked, kissing her again. He caught Draco's eye, and sent him a look that implied 'you'd do the same' before his attention was caught by the presence of a newcomer. Draco turned to see Granger; she was wearing the same clothes except for a cardigan. Their gazes locked on each other for a brief moment before he turned away. The image she projected was what had caught him off guard the moment she had walked into his office that morning. She wasn't carrying the aura of the professional, she was stripped down to just Hermione Granger, which carried a new meaning now that they had been together.

"Is the room okay, Hermione?" Blaise asked.

"It's perfect," she replied warmly, sitting on the edge of the sun chair near Padma. Draco ignored the exchange and walked over to the bottle of firewhiskey that had appeared, pouring it into three tumblers before chilling them. He took a swig of his even as he passed the others around, eager to have it in his system. He was turning into an alcoholic. All thanks to Granger. He saw Sebastian approach her, as he sat down next to her facing the opposite way the on the same chair.

"So, how long have you worked for the Prophet?" he heard her ask. 'Indifference,' he reminded himself as he walked out of earshot, down the small slope that defined the boundaries of the entertaining area, toward the fountain that contained a small school of fish. He stared at them absently before gazing at the sculpture from which the water sprouted. It was a copy of the work of some muggle sculptor, he recalled Blaise telling him. It depicted a man chasing a woman, who was turning herself into a tree to escape his attentions. He grimaced at its relevance.

He heard the rustling of feet through the grass but did not bother turning to face the intruder. "What's up with you?" Blaise asked standing next to him, tumbler in hand.

"Why should anything be up?" he replied. He had Granger to thank for that. Blaise chuckled, causing Draco to turn and glare. "If you've got something to say, then say it," he bit out, feeling rather irate.

"Don't bite my head off. I get it."

"Get what?" Blaise smirked knowingly.

"Hermione," was all he said. Draco remained silent. "Seb is really into her," he continued. Draco snarled, his face contorting into an expression of distaste, mixed with a hint of jealousy. Blaise chuckled again.

"What?" Draco shot out again with exasperation. He was not in the mood for Blaise's all mighty relationship expertise. But, Blaise said nothing, instead giving him a manly pat on the back and walking off. Draco was infuriated. Since when had he become the subject of concern?

Draco downed the rest of his drink and walked back to the others.

"…it just doesn't seem plausible," Granger was shaking her head in response to something Sebastian had said.

"Hermione, you're speaking from a high level viewpoint, it's only natural for you to be defensive. You would have no idea about what low level Ministry advocates get up to. I have evidence to support that Ministry employees are leaking this kind of information, and at a price."

Granger was listening to Sebastian rattle on about some conspiracy he was trying to uncover involving Ministry figures who were consorting with private enterprise, but all Draco could see were the sneaking subtle touches he gave her, to her forearm, her shoulder, his absolute attention on her. Draco could not believe he had been reduced to this, glaring blindly at the instigations of another on the woman he had invited along for the weekend away. She hadn't even noticed his presence, which only served to rile him further.

Blaise was busy giving Padma his undivided attention. "I'm going out for a ride," Draco interrupted. All four of them turned to look at him in unison, but his eyes could only focus on one. Granger shifted slightly, realising her proximity to Sebastian, her expression seemingly discomfited. He didn't understand why she even bothered.

"Hey, not without me, I've been hanging out for a ride on the old broom all day," Blaise moved Padma's arm away from his neck and stood up. She huffed playfully. "Seb? Hermione? You guys want to go out for a ride?" Hermione looked up in horror at the suggestion, shaking her head absently. Draco couldn't help but react and let out a chuckle; it was obvious she had a fear of flying. He walked over and picked up a broom.

"Not all of us are experienced flyers, Draco," Padma reprimanded. He rolled his eyes at her mockingly.

"Hermione can fly with me," Seb suggested. Draco inwardly groaned at the cut throat opportunist. He could see Granger's confliction. Her expression was halfway between reluctance and obligation to exercise propriety amongst acquaintances.

"Do you have much experience flying with two people on one broom, Sebastian?" he asked, unable to resist his condescending tone. He saw Granger visibly relax at his interjection.

"A few times, it's not any different to flying solo."

"I don't think Gr- Hermione would appreciate your assumption," Draco responded curtly. "I, on the other hand, have taught flying, so if Hermione wants to give it a shot, I would probably be the best person to take her out." His gaze shifted to Granger as he said this. She appeared to at least consider his suggestion but he knew it was a long shot.

"Well, let's leave it up to Hermione to decide," Blaise offered as he grabbed two brooms, handing one to Sebastian, who seemed rather forlorn at the outcome.

"Uhm, I am not really confident being up in the air, I might sit this out with Padma," Granger finally proposed. Draco was not surprised and merely shrugged, feeling rather smug that Sebastian was out of the picture on this one.

"Don't forget the quaffle, Blaise," he directed before mounting his broom and shooting skyward, relishing the feel of his feet lifting off the ground and the cool breeze hitting gently against his skin. He looked out and saw Blaise and Sebastian approaching, tossing the quaffle back and forth to each other as they ascended. As they neared, Blaise broke the pattern and thew the quaffle over to Draco who caught it swiftly with one hand, tucking it under his left arm. It felt good to be holding a quidditch ball; he hadn't played in a while.

Draco looked down below and Padma and Granger, they seemed to be laughing about something. He could make out the red colour of her shoes and smiled. "So, Blaise, do you know if Hermione is seeing anyone?" he heard Sebastian's voice carry through the air. Draco turned his broom around to face them, shooting Blaise a wary look.

"I don't know, Draco sees her more than I do, maybe he knows," Blaise smirked knowingly, amusement apparent in his voice. "What do you say, Draco?"

"She's seeing someone," Draco stated with finality, shooting Blaise a heated glare to stop his subtle antagonising.

"Wonder who the lucky guy is?" Blaise continued to joke. Draco threw the quaffle at him with all the force he could muster. It was unfortunate that the former beater caught it swiftly.

"Some Ministry affiliate," he surmised, trying to end the conversation.

"Do you know his name?" Sebastian inquired. Blaise threw the quaffle at him to throw him off. Sebastian's reflexes were surprisingly good.

"What difference does it make?" Draco responded.

"Just intrigued, is all," he replied downtrodden. Draco could not help but smirk, catching the quaffle from Sebastian with ease.

ooo

Draco disembarked from the broom, noticing that Padma and Granger were nowhere to be seen.

"They're probably in the library," Blaise commented as he landed.

"I'm going to go shower," Draco replied. He had not expected to stay out for so long but they got carried away with their quidditch obsession, mimicking plays of their favourite teams. The only light source was from the lanterns around the palazzo, giving it an ethereal feel as night descended on them.

"I might see you guys in there," Draco walked through the courtyard, taking the stone staircase up to the second floor entrance. He entered his room, taking off the bulk of his clothing, leaving only his jeans and boxers. They had not quite caught on to the convenience of ensuites when the palazzo had been built. Draco exited his room and walked over to the bathroom door, opening it and stepping in. The cold tiles cooled his feet as he walked over to the shower and started the water, setting it at the right temperature before swiftly undressing and stepping in. It had been a long day, and the water on his back soothed the tension he had been carrying since his encounter with Granger. His thoughts diverted to her, as he pictured her straddling him in an unabashed move to make him speed up his ministrations. He could no longer deny what she did to him.

Stepping out of the shower, he grabbed the towel and tied it around his hips, casting a drying charm before walking over to the mirror and doing the same to his hair. He needed a shave, yet he was the least bit inclined to act on it. He couldn't even remember the spell.

The door suddenly opened, and through the mirror, he was Granger walk in. Her surprise was much more obvious as she practically jumped out of her skin as she caught sight of him. He smirked.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realise you were in here," she turned to exit.

"Granger, I'm finishing up anyway. I was going to shave, but you saved me the trouble. I thought you were all in the library?"

"I was, but I decided I might turn in. It's been a pretty long day." He nodded, his back still facing her as he watched her through the mirror. Once again, he noticed her expression of indecision and inner conflict. He opened the cabinet and pulled out deodorant, spraying it under each arm before closing the it again. She was still looking at him, or rather through him.

"You alright, Granger?" She was acting strange.

"How do you do it?" she blurted without context.

"Do what?" He furrowed his brow.

"Shave. Muggle method or magic?"

He found her questioning strange and turned to face her. She seemed slightly taken aback by his move to face her, like she had grown accustomed to speaking to him through the mirror.

"Magic usually," he simply replied. She nodded, regarding him quietly for a few moments. "But I have had a momentary lapse in memory and can't recall the spell."

He leaned back against the basin, crossing his arms. She seemed to be deciding on something, he was in no hurry to leave as he gave her the once over. She owed him that much for his earlier torment.

"I think I can help," she finally said. Draco cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. Granger walked over, taking her wand out. To his surprise, she lifted herself up onto the counter top and gestured for him to face her. He had no qualms with obeying her in this instance. Their eyes were level as he looked at her expectantly, unable to resist his telltale grin that dared her to continue. She smirked back, lifting a hand to his cheek, rubbing it to assess the growth. He relished her touch.

"I only know one way of doing this," she directed before muttering an incantation.

"Shaving cream?" His face was covered with the stuff. "You really know how to emasculate the purpose of magic, Granger." She grinned back, looking at her handiwork.

"Don't move," she commanded, her stern tone deflected by her sly grin. He was rather enjoying himself as he watched her face concentrate on the incantation. She tilted his face to once side and ran her wand over his skin, a tingling sensation passed over him. She tilted his head to the other side and repeated her actions.

"Okay, now face me," she directed. He willingly obliged, regarding her closely. She seemed to shift in discomfort as she noticed his eyes on her while her gaze was fixed on his chin and upper lip.

"Stop it," she warned.

"Stop what?" he feigned innocence.

"I can't concentrate; do you want me to cut your lip by accident?"

"Of course not," he replied, trying to keep a straight face but did not take his eyes off her. Draco took in every detail of her face, her long eyelashes, shapely eyebrows, radiant skin, before averting his gaze to her lips. They were slightly parted and very inviting, which only stirred recollection of their encounters.

Without realising, he leaned in and kissed them gently, forgetting that he still had shaving cream on his face, his hand came up to gently grasp her hips. She wriggled away, smiling.

"Patience, Draco," he was instantly aroused by her tone but said nothing and let her finish. She had a bit of shaving cream on her upper lip; he brought his hand up and wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.

"Don't know how that got there," he simply said. She nudged him gently, rolling her eyes before bringing her hand up to his cheek. She rubbed it again, testing her work. He guessed she was done, her smile of satisfaction a dead giveaway.

That was his cue to kiss her again. She didn't back away. He felt like he had just won the battle.

His kisses were fierce as he gripped her waist. He couldn't help feel the need to punish her slightly, just enough to hint at his earlier frustration. She seemed to sense it as her legs came to wrap themselves around his waist, urging him closer. He attacked her jaw and neck, loving the feel of her soft skin against his lips, sucking gently at the base of her neck, along her collarbone. Her fingers were combing through his hair. He couldn't help but moan against her skin, as his own fingers came to the base of her top, goading it upward and all the way off.

She was kissing along his jaw as his hands fumbled with her jeans.

"Lift up slightly," he said as he pulled at her jeans. She brought her hands to her sides and lifted toward him, her hair was dishevelled around her face. He was going crazy and hastily tugged them off. They were now back to where they had left off after lunch, he kissed her with relief, one hand running through her curls as his other hand traced over her full breasts. He needed to have her naked in front of him.

Fingers on her bra clasp, he expertly undid it, pulling it off her, as he brought his lips down to lick and suck at her peaks. He loved her slight pants and soft moans as he concentrated on her breasts, his hands and lips working to elicit more of those delightful moans and her desperate please. Her hands came to the edge of his towel and he felt it being pulled off him. Smiling against her, she knew how to make her readiness known.

He released his hold on her, bring his hands to her waist once more and looking at her silently. Her lips red, body bare, she was the very image of his desires.

"You're beautiful," he didn't even hear himself say it, but he must have, for her to hitch her breath like that. His thumbs circled down to the waistband of her very scant panties. He wrapped one arm around her waist, lifting her slightly as he tugged them off. She let go of her hold around him and let them fall to the ground.

Bending down on his knees, he spread her legs, taking in the scent of her arousal. Her fingers held onto his hair as he brought his lips down on her, licking at her sensory nub. She instinctively arched into him, her grip on his hair tightening. He alternated between licking and sucking, running his tongue along her, before flicking it into her entrance. He could not contain his own arousal as her moans filled the room. Concentrating, he worked on her, bringing her to climax around his tongue before gently sucking on her nub to let her ride it out. He knew his unrelenting attention would leave her feeling extra sensitive, but it was his way of showing his annoyance.

He came up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he grinned at her with satisfaction. "That was just the entrée," he stated matter of factly. "I'm not done with you yet," he teased. She was too busy composing herself to respond. Draco lifted her off the counter, her legs instinctively wrapping themselves around him once more. He could feel her heat against him but composed himself, instead focusing on kissing her again, as her tongue invaded his mouth wantonly.

Walking them over to the shower, he stepped in, pressing her against the wall as his other hand worked the taps. The water cooled them at first before heating up and tingling against their skin.

"I thought you already had a shower?" she questioned, half smiling.

"I have, but didn't you want one, Hermione?" he replied as he thrust into her. Her mouth opened in surprise.

"That… was… the plan," she replied between breaths, her lips catching his as she came down on him as he thrust up in a heated rhythm.

"Well, I'm glad… I could be…of assistance," he replied against her mouth, smiling. His hands toyed with her nipples as he worked her up into frenzy once again. Her walls were clenching around him, she was close. Picking up the pace, he finally heard her call out his name, it drove him over the edge as he released into her. Her fingers curled into his hair, as she came down from her high. He lifted her up, letting her stand under the running water. She looked at him with half-lidded eyes. He smirked as he reached for the shampoo bottle and squeezed some into his hand.

"I take it you wash your hair when you shower?" he asked nonchalantly. She pushed him back against the wall, her hands on his chest as she kissed him again.

"Careful, Granger! I have shampoo in my hand." He brought it up and let it fall on her head as he began to massage it through her hair. She closed her eyes.

"Turn around," he whispered. She obliged as he continued to lather the shampoo through her hair, slowly circling his fingers along her scalp.

"Why are you washing my hair?"

"Thought I'd return the favour for your shaving expertise," he replied definitively as he directed her under the running water once again, rinsing her hair. She was so pliant against his touch, he was astounded. The whole intimacy of the situation was unlike anything he had experienced.

Finally, she turned to face him, smiling lazily. "Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy had such a gentle streak," she tilted her head to the side as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Does that mean you're not interested in Mr high and mighty Prophet writer?" She scrunched her face as if he had said something ridiculous.

"What, Sebastian?" He nodded, feeling stupid for his implied admission. She laughed. "Is that why you think I was not into it earlier?"

"You tell me."

"No, I just had a moment," she replied timidly, letting go of her hold on him. He watched her wash quickly; her back facing him before turning the water off and stepping out. She grabbed the nearby towel and wrapped it around her. He stepped out after her, picking up his abandoned towel off the floor and wrapping it around him once again. He cast another drying spell, as he watched Granger head over to her bag and pull out a tube of something, squeezing it into her hand before rubbing it through her hair. She caught him watching her.

"It helps tame my curls," she offered.

"Does it tame your thoughts too?" he could not help responding. She frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"What's freaking you out so much?" She sighed.

"I guess I just never expected that we would end up having this kind of relationship." It was his turn to frown.

"Granger, I can't explain how it's come to this, but I'm attracted to you, in a big way. I never expected it either," he shrugged. "Isn't that what makes it more interesting?"

"True," she smiled. "How do you suppose others will react?" So that's what it was.

"Granger, when we decide to let people know, we will deal with it. If it comes to that, then let it happen. For now, I'm happy to shag you senseless," he couldn't help himself. "Is Hermione Granger blushing?" he chuckled and walked over to her.

"No, it's just hot in here," she defended, nudging him. He wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her into him, kissing her forehead.

"Sleep in my room tonight, Granger," he heard himself request.

"Malfoy, I'm exhausted, I really want to have a good rest," she replied.

"Quit defying me Granger, when I say sleep, I actually mean it. You've done a good job of exhausting me also." He squeezed her closer, goading her acquiescence.

"Okay, I'll hold you to that. I just need to grab some clothes from my room." She really was testing his patience.

"It's more fun to sleep naked, didn't you know?" he replied with utmost sincerity, she almost nodded out of habit before realising what he said.

"Malfoy! I'll meet you in your room." She pulled away from his hold and walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door gently behind him.

It was as if their encounter was some surreal dream.

He followed soon after and walked back to his room, pulling on a pair of boxers before falling into his bed. He lay on his back, his hands tucked under his head as he stared into darkness, suddenly feeling uncertain about whether or not she would come. What was happening to him? Any other woman and he could care less if she stayed or not. Here he was, requesting that Granger spend the night in his room, even after their heated escapades in the bathroom. He sighed out loud, trying to force himself to feel indifferent if she decided not to show.

Draco was dozing off finally, in a halfway state of awareness and altered consciousness that would shortly over when sleep consumed him. He distantly head the door click open, some light shuffling and the bed move gently as a body slipped under the covers.

"Hermione?" he whispered through the haze of his sleepy state.

"Hmmm?" was all he heard, as his arm came out to grab hold of her person. He pulled her close to him, her warmth finally pushing him over the edge into a satisfied slumber.

* * *

A/N: Awww....:p


	21. Wake up Call

**A/N: Thanks for being patient, I do finally have an update, albeit a slightly shorter one, but it attends to Hermione's take on the whole weekend away and the events that have taken place thus far, with a little spice to add to their more frequent relations. I had much fun writing it and I promise my next update will be sooner but I wanted a chappie that was just the two of them before the next leg. Enjoy! **

Chapter 21

Hermione had never felt so warm in her bed. She stirred, shifting to let the heat envelope her further, to help her maintain that gratifying drowsiness that brought a smile of satisfaction to her face. She could stay like this forever.

She felt a warm hand graze over her stomach, her eyes opened instantly. Hermione was definitely not in her room, and certainly not alone. Disorientated, the presence of a body behind her came to fruition, as she took in the interior of the finely furnished space. Recollection of last night stormed through her mind.

She was in bed with Draco Malfoy, and she liked it.

It was a bold move on her part to instigate their bathroom antics last night, but walking in on him, unexpectedly, in the middle of his after shower routine definitely thwarted any hesitation she had been harbouring. The most mundane of acts, him standing in front of a mirror, left her almost breathless. It didn't help that his hair was all dishevelled, his torso bare, that towel hanging very dangerously low on his hips, his shoulder muscles shifting against his vertebrae as he moved. Had she not reacted to _that_, then really, she was just wasting his time.

Going by the heated session that had ensued, there was no doubt that it confirmed Malfoy as her sexual counterpart. He knew how to balance a little roughness and make it intimate to the point of deception, as if he was reacting to her emotionally, not just physically. Each time had been more thrilling than the last. He definitely had a way of persuading her to sleep in his bed last night.

Hermione sighed with content. The morning sun was trickling through the curtains, sending slithers of crisp light across the room. She wanted to turn and face him, but she feared that he would wake and then awkwardness would follow, like it had that day in his office, and then at his apartment. If she was going to be honest with herself, she certainly played a large part in generating said unease after each occasion, often reacting heatedly to his remarks, or her subconscious driving her to re-establish control. It was partly the reason why she had rejected him yesterday, after lunch; she would have had no escape if it had become weird, or if she had she reverted to her stubborn, controlling, ways which only ever led to disagreement or misunderstanding.

But, that was all before last night's memorable affair, and his confronting questions about her '_freaking_ _out_' where he admitted his attraction to her, and pressed upon her irrational fears. He was driven by logic, after all. Then again, so was she, just inexperienced when it came to dealing with someone that she had always had such a tumultuous association with. One that had had evolved from being hateful and spiteful, to a challenging and rather competitive apathy, to an unreachable yearning that had now been realised.

Slowly, Hermione turned around, careful not to disturb the sleeping man behind her, and conscious of his arm around her waist. It was easy to do so with her satin shorts gliding along the sheets. It was a sight to behold. Malfoy was on his stomach, those broad muscular shoulders exposed, his head turned away from her so she was facing a mop of his signature hair that was long enough to brush the nape of his neck. His other arm seemed to be tucked underneath his pillow, giving his neck some leverage. Hermione just stared, her eyes wandering up the arm that was heavy over her midsection, to his shoulder, his neck, his hair. It was certainly an unreal state of affairs that she had to reach out and touch his hair to be sure she wasn't dreaming. It was just as she remembered; soft.

Hermione ran her fingers down his neck, along his shoulder blade, and down his arm, finally reaching his hand. She stroked it gently, they had a manly roughness to them, but one could tell that the man had never so much a lifted a tool in his life. 'Okay, Hermione, you are creeping yourself out with your scrutinizing assessment,' she told herself and let go of his hand. He seemed to have noticed the loss of contact as he tightened his hold on her and suddenly she was looking at his face, in his eyes half-lidded, still beholding a sleepy stupor. He smiled lazily at her, pulling her in closer to him. She didn't resist.

"Morning, Granger," he managed to say, his voice groggy. Hermione certainly could get used to _this_.

"Morning, _Malfoy_," she stressed, her eyes amused by his reference. Last night she was 'Hermione', this morning she was 'Granger' – a very persuasive ploy, indeed. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. 'Back to persuasive ploys,' she reasoned, smiling at his gesture.

He brought his other hand out from under the pillow and turned on his side to face her completely. "Sleep well?" She nodded.

"You?"

"Never better," he replied. "This is the best bed." Hermione laughed at his proclamation.

"You're cute when you sleep," she slipped. Great, now he knew she had been watching him.

"Cute, Granger?" he was not amused. "Malfoys are _not_ cute," he scrunched up his face in distaste, like a child who had eaten a green vegetable. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"What _is_ an acceptable description for a Malfoy?" she played along.

"I'll take any of the following: handsome, manly, sexy…you know, run of the mill stuff for a _man. Cute_ is for little girls brooding over their first crush," he stated matter-of-factly. Hermione laughed.

"Still not convinced?" he goaded. Hermione shook her head, just to tease him. She felt his hand push her gently so she rolled onto her back and he moved to hover over her, propped up on his elbow. "Granger, you really are a stubborn one," he shook his head, his fingers playing with the waistband of her shorts. He looked down at them, surprised.

"Are these boxers?" he looked genuinely interested in her attire, tugging them down gently to see if she was wearing any underwear.

"They're pyjama shorts, Malfoy," she chided playfully. It never ceased to amaze her how one highly influential, intelligent, socially adept, and handsome man, as he so put it, could still ponder with curiosity the simple things, like muggle pyjamas.

"I always knew you wore the pants in the golden trio," he replied, as his fingers ran down to her hip and his eyes widened at the lack of seam underneath.

"The golden trio has nothing to do with my pants," she nudged him with her elbow gently in the chest. He tugged her shorts down even further; they were sitting dangerously low on her hip. How the tables had turned. Malfoy's hand roamed over her stomach and lower abdomen, his hand slipping under her tank top, lifting it and riding up to just under the curve of her breast. All the while, he was staring at her with a challenging eye. Now that Malfoy, she could handle.

Hermione brought her hands up to the waistband of his boxers and swiftly pulled them right down, raising an eyebrow at him. He smirked, that familiar expression drawing her inner competitiveness out as she promptly sat up, pushing him onto his back in the process. Malfoy seemed to be enjoying her advances and once again, she found him with his hands tucked under his head, further emphasising his perfect v-shape, that arrogant pose setting her up as he watched her, while he kicked his boxers off. The man was naked and completely comfortable.

She hovered over him, kissing down his bare chest, over his stomach, until she came to the trail that led to his half-ready arousal. All the while, she discreetly removed her shorts and tossed them on the floor with her foot. Challenges were always won with a surprise up one's sleeve. Hermione focused her attention on him, taking him into her mouth, hearing him groan as her lips closed around him. She let her tongue tease along his shaft, focusing on the head, and then drifting down the length. A few repetitions and he had grown hard and ready.

She slowly pulled back, playing with the head again, running her tongue over the tip, relishing in his reaction as he slightly bucked his hips up at her. She could tell he was restraining himself as she looked up and saw his eyes shut tight. Her control over him had worked her up and she could feel that familiar wetness between he legs. Hermione's teasing was over, as she released him and sat up. He opened his eyes instantly. She grinned back, crawling up to him, so he couldn't see her exposed lower half, resting her hands on his chest. Malfoy moved to withdraw his arms but she pressed her palms down to stop his movement, as she positioned herself. In one calculated move, Hermione lowered herself onto him, watching his reaction.

To say that he was surprised was an understatement. Malfoy's arms instantly came up and took hold of her thighs on either side. He groaned as she let him fill her completely, finding her balance with her hands.

"Hermione Granger, how very Slytherin of you," he muttered. She smiled back knowingly as she lifted herself off slowly, then settling back down at the same pace, allowing her senses to take over and guide her. She had never felt so awake in the morning as she found a steady rhythm. She could feel Malfoy's grip on her as he brought his hands around to her hips and bucked up gently. That extra movement made her back arch in response. She heard herself moan with satisfaction as he hit all the rights spots, and her lower abdomen stirred with desire. She continued her movements, maintaining her steady pace, which he met as he thrust up into her while she came down on him. Hermione could not help but moan his name; the prolonging sensations make her skin tingle, as her breath shortened, and the blood rushed through her. She shut her eyes, trying to control her pace, but her breath hitched as she felt his hand on her breast, toying with her hardened nipple through her top. It almost sent her over the edge as he gently pinched and massaged her. Freeing herself from her control, Hermione picked up her pace, which he matched instantly, driving her to a complete state of euphoria as she felt herself clench around him, and her release culminate. Her climax was drawn out by his continual thrusts up into her.

"Oh…Draco," she heard herself voice through her breaths, and felt his throbbing release moments later. He growled in appreciation, as she finally let her head fall down onto his rising chest, listening to his heart rate as she caught her breath. "Wow," she heard him say. Hermione smiled, her eyes closed, enjoying his gentle rubbing up and down her arms. "Now that is a wake up call," he finally said.

"Hmmm," she muttered in agreement.

Hermione sat up, lifting herself off him, lying flat on her back next to him. "That was a very sneaky thing you did yourself, at the end." She recalled his ministrations on her chest, inadvertently causing her to increase her pace. Not that she minded, but she knew it had its purpose. He turned to his side, she could feel him against her thigh, and her mind was in the gutter already. The man was a stallion.

"Not as sneaky as your little change of plan," he came over her and kissed her lips, their first kiss of the morning, his hand cupping her face, tilting her toward him for better access. So, he didn't mind a little morning breath then? Hermione smiled against him. His kisses were sweet, relaxed, drawn out, and she sighed into his mouth approvingly. What a way to wake up in Chianti, she reflected.

The sudden knocking on the door brought them back to reality. Malfoy pulled away reluctantly, pecking her on the nose, before sitting up.

"Yeah?" he called out. Hermione sat up and walked over to her shorts, swiftly putting them on. She tossed Malfoy his boxers, careful not to make noise that might announce that there were two in his room.

"Malfoy?" It was Blaise. "I think Hermione might have left, Padma went to her room and she wasn't there, the bed hadn't been slept in." Hermione looked at Malfoy and almost burst out laughing. He smiled, his eyes lighting up.

"Maybe she woke up early and went for a walk? I'll be out in a minute; I'll give her a call."

"Alright mate, I just wanted to check that you two didn't have a run in last night. She went to bed pretty much as soon as we got to the library."

"Nah, didn't see her," Hermione would never have pulled that off, he was so believable.

"We're in the sun-room." They heard footsteps walk away. Hermione burst out laughing, she felt like a teenager who had nearly been caught sneaking into the boys dormitories. Something she had never done, of course. Draco smirked at her.

"Granger, didn't you ever sneak around at school?" he jibed, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She tilted her head, ready to defend herself.

"Draco Malfoy, _my_ sneaking around pertained to more life threatening matters such as saving hippogriffs, running away from three-headed dogs, chasing animagi, going in to the Forbidden Forest. _Not_, sneaking around with boys."

"Impressive, Granger," he nodded with bemusement. "But, you really did miss out on the best kind of sneaking around," he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"I hardly think a bunch _boys_ would have been much fun, nor did I really have the chance, you know, too busy helping - "

"I know the story, Granger, no need to get worked up about it." He kissed her gently on the lips. She let it go, this time. "You better go get ready, I'll meet you downstairs, I will tell them I called you and you were out in the vineyards talking to the muggle workers. It's ten-thirty, so they would have been out there a few hours already."

"Blaise hires muggles?" Hermione was dumbfounded. Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Really, Granger, let's not have this discussion now. Maybe that is a topic of conversation at the breakfast table?" If it wasn't for the hint of mirth in his voice, then she definitely would be having this conversation.

"Fine, Mr. I use muggle telephones." She walked out of the room, but not before checking that the hallway was clear, and practically ran, lightly, to her bedroom, grateful that she had hung her bag behind the door, otherwise, that would have given it all away. Despite yesterdays hiccup, she was at ease with her progressing relationship with Malfoy and satisfied that she had taken a chance to allow herself to spend the weekend with him. Grabbing the bag from the hook, she rushed to the bathroom and hastily got ready.

* * *

A/N: I think they are finally comfortable with one another...


	22. Uncharacteristic characterisations

**A/N: Back again - I wanted to finish the whole Chianti trip and move on to the new developments to come. This is the final wrap for Italy. Enjoy! **

Chapter 22

Hermione had finally found the sun-room. It seemed to be an addition to the old palazzo, the glass being a dead giveaway of its modernity. Yet, the view was definitely something, as she looked out at the pool and terrazzo tiling, and the great potted plants casting shadows which gave an impression of a mini-oasis. She spotted Draco sitting casually on one of the cane chairs, sipping on his coffee.

"Hermione! We thought you'd left!" Padma seemed genuinely relieved as she set her tea-cup down on the table and beamed at her. Draco looked over his newspaper at her, nodding before setting it down, his eyes beholding amusement. She could see his lips curl behind his coffee cup as he lifted it to his lips.

"I woke up early and decided to go for a walk. Sorry to worry you." She took a seat at the table opposite Draco. Even the table top was made of glass, supported by a stone based structure. It was brutal yet elegant. Hermione made herself a cup of tea, and filled her bowl with muesli, fruit and yogurt. She was famished.

Blaise walked into the room, sitting next to her. "Morning Hermione, Draco tells us you were out talking to the employees. I didn't know you spoke Italian." Hermione almost choked. She wanted to kill Draco for not divulging that bit of information. She looked at him, trying to shield the horror on her face, thinking of what to say. "You must have been talking to Ricardo, he's the only one that speaks English," he winked. Hermione exhaled in relief.

"Yes, I didn't realise you hired muggles, Blaise," she was taking a risk by relying on what Draco said, but really, she had drawn the short straw on her alias.

"Well, they're the wine experts, I am just learning about the whole industry in the region. I'm only here on the weekends so they tend to the operations. Mother was into it, she's known Ricardo for years, but she's moved to Florence. She says it makes her feel younger to be in a city."

"She's right, all you have here are your thoughts," Padma added. "So, Hermione, I was thinking of going to Siena for the day, they have some great little boutiques, maybe you wanted to check it out with me?"

"Yeah okay," she said between mouthfuls of the deliciously creamy yogurt, fresh berries, and muesli. She caught Draco watching her lick her spoon clean as she savoured the flavours.

Hermione turned to Blaise. "Will you and Draco be coming?"

He shook his head, "I have some business to attend to. Sebastian's gone back to London so I need to stick around for him to send me some information I was waiting for. Draco, maybe you can be their chaperone for the day?"

"I'm sure Draco doesn't want to be tagging along with a bunch of girls shopping," Padma cut in.

"Actually, I don't mind at all." He folded The Prophet, set his coffee cup down on its saucer and looked over at Padma.

"Really?" Padma seemed genuinely pleased. "Great then, a man's opinion does count for something. I'm so sick of wearing my healer's uniform I'm desperate for some retail therapy."

"I thought that might be the case," Blaise replied. Hermione found his comment rather unusual, and looked at him questioningly. "Draco, mentioned he needed to pick up a few things earlier," he offered. She wasn't convinced. Hermione had a feeling that Blaise was not as ignorant as he appeared.

"Too bad Sebastian left, I'm sure he would have loved to come, Hermione." Padma assured, sending glares to Blaise. Hermione almost choked on her tea, and was violently coughing behind her hand.

"Alright, Granger?" Draco asked, smirking. She nodded, coughing away.

"Padma, I don't think Hermione appreciates your implied matchmaking," Blaise reproved. Draco stood up, poured water into his glass and walked over to hand it to her.

"Thanks," she managed to let out before he walked back to his seat. She finally composed herself and looked up at him. He seemed to be having a silent conversation with Blaise while Padma was talking about Sebastian.

"Sebastian is a good looking, very smart, _and_ a nice guy. Any girl would go for him, don't you think, Hermione?"

"Give it up, Padma, you're pressuring her about nothing," Blaise huffed.

"He was nice," Hermione shrugged, trying to prevent any spats between the couple. She could feel Draco's eyes on her but she didn't look at him.

"See?" Padma defended, "There's nothing wrong with looking out for a friend, especially if I know that he likes you, Hermione."

Hermione smiled meekly. She could see Blaise fuming next to her, trying to keep calm. It was amusing to see how they interacted as a couple.

"It's not like there are many other young eligible wizards out there, it won't hurt to go on a couple of dates." Hermione knew Padma meant well so she let it slide, inwardly laughing.

"C'mon Padma, that's not fair, I'm sure Hermione knows plenty of eligible young bachelors," Blaise defended on her behalf.

"What, Draco?" She turned to him. "No, offence," she assured, before continuing. He just shook his head, bemused. "With their history?" Hermione promptly bit into a nearby apricot danish to save herself from speaking. "Besides Draco, you are the perpetual bachelor. You will never marry." Hermione swallowed her half-chewed mouthful as she reacted to Padma's comment. She avoided the eyes of all three of them.

A momentary silence swept through the room, and Hermione could definitely feel the elephant's presence, before Blaise guffawed, shaking his head. "Padma darling, you are forgetting the small detail of the heir. Draco will have to marry…eventually." He shot Draco a grin, one that perhaps had more connotations attached to it than Hermione or Padma could pick up on. Nevertheless, despite Blaise's save, Hermione's suspicions were confirmed.

Blaise knew.

"Eager to move away from the topic of conversation, Hermione spoke up. "I thought the Vinesi's were wonderful, have you known them long?" she asked Blaise.

"Only about a year. They moved into the neighbouring estate a few years back, but I only started coming down here to oversee the operations last year after my mother sought a change of scenery. It's kind of hard to juggle with my work at St Mungos so I like to delegate," he reasoned.

"He's just being modest." Padma affirmed, standing up and walking over to her fiancé, hugging him round the neck as she kissed his head. "I don't mind though, I like coming down here."

Hermione smiled, shifting a little uncomfortably in her chair. She was not used to dealing with affectionate couples, which was probably why she and Harry had become closer after Ron and Luna's marriage. She missed him, her mood turning sombre at the thought, as she looked over at Draco who was staring at the table, his expression pensive. Everyone seemed pre-occupied with their thoughts.

"Shall we go then?" Padma finally announced. Hermione smiled and nodded.

"I'll just go grab my bag."

"We'll meet you in the courtyard."

OOO

Draco and Padma seemed to be laughing about something as Hermione walked down the stone steps from the second floor into the courtyard. Padma was almost in tears, and Draco was trying hard to contain his laughter, but his eyes were lit up with amusement. Hermione felt like she had just observed a snapshot in time, of Draco's most at ease state. She knew what he was like behind closed doors, but generally, in public, he maintained a protective distance in his mannerisms.

She walked up to them, a look of curiosity across her face.

"Oh, Hermione, I have never heard anything so ridiculous. Draco is onto his fifth assistant. The last got upset when Draco told him off for falling for a journalist. Can you believe that was the tipping point for the poor boy? Not the hard arse, workaholic Draco making impossible demands. That is just too funny, Draco," she wiped her eyes.

"Mac left?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Oh, you know him?" Padma inquired.

"He greeted me once when I went to MC."

"I haven't seen him in a week, so I am guessing he's fallen in love and pissed off somewhere. Haven't told his father yet; I'm waiting to see how it pans out for him." Draco Malfoy had cruel sense of humour. Hermione shook her head worriedly. She felt slightly sorry for Mac but could see the lighter side of it all.

"Shall we?" Draco held out both arms, Hermione raised an eyebrow at his gesture. "Granger, I am your chaperone, after all," he drawled.

OOO

Siena was vibrant, yet it had a more relaxed atmosphere than the bustle of Florence. Hermione stood in the main square, admiring the architecture of the basilica. Pigeons flocked around them. Hermione was not particularly fond of pigeons.

Padma was already on a mission, as she walked ahead of them, leading them to the purported best boutiques.

Draco and Hermione followed, a little less enthusiastically.

"So, what's wrong with dating a journalist then?" Hermione tantalized. Draco looked at her and rolled his eyes, exhaling. She was hitting him with a double entendre.

"Granger, do you remember everything down to a tee?"

"Just intrigued that's all," she shrugged innocently.

"Yeah, right. Are you asking me about Mac, or about _Sebastion_ _Parker_?" the disdain apparent in his voice at the latter reference.

"You tell me."

"I don't think so, Granger. How about some shoe shopping instead?" He gestured toward the most elaborate window display of shoes Hermione had ever set her eyes on. Padma had already disappeared inside. The wizard beside her laughed.

"I didn't expect it to be that easy," he reflected. Hermione was oblivious to his remark as she walked in after Padma, who appeared to have already requested the services of one of the shop assistants.

ooo

"Oh, and I love these!" Padma had two different shoes on each foot, and was holding on to another. Hermione had to admit, they were rather exquisite but she wasn't prepared to settle yet. Her manner of shopping was, look first, then decide, whereas Padma was more inclined to keep adding to her list.

The fit-out of the shop oozed a dark opulence, with velvet black curtains acting as the back drop for the shoe displays. The shelving was of clear plastic that had crystals embedded into its thickness. It gave the impression of floating shoes surrounded by falling jewels, capturing a moment frozen in time. Velvet purple chaises in the centre were occupied by many drooling women and frazzled service assistants. Hermione looked up at Draco. He had found himself a clear spot and was standing, checking out a young woman who was prancing about in the highest pair of platform pumps Hermione had ever seen. They must be Laboutin, she reflected. He caught her staring and walked over to her.

"Granger, I would like to see you in those," he whispered huskily. She elbowed him. He was too distracting and she had to concentrate. The expense of these shoes meant she could only let herself buy one pair, and that would be a splurge.

"Only I have a say in the shoes I wear," she clarified with haughtiness that arose when one was in their element. She also required a smidgen of practicality.

"We'll see," there seemed to be some finality to his statement, as he wandered away, leaving Hermione feeling rather flattered that he was thinking of her while checking out another attractive woman.

Padma was driving the shop assistant to exhaustion.

And then, she spotted them. Hermione rushed over for fear of it being an illusion and picked up one of the shoes. Patent grey, with black trimming, almond toed, nice heel, albeit a little higher than desired, with a belt like ankle strap that would sit at the thinnest point of the ankle. Hermione's eyes glazed over.

"Did you want some help, seniorina?" Hermione nodded, smiling eagerly, like she had just caught her prey. She managed to inform the assistant of her size, hoping that they had a pair in stock.

"I will check," she responded efficiently. Hermione walked over to Padma.

"Hermione, I can't decide," she whined, looking lovingly at a pair of fever red suede platform sandals in her hand, before gazing down at her feet.

"You know in your heart which you love most," Hermione responded, patting Padma on the arm reassuringly as she sat down next to her. The whole seriousness attached to shoe shopping was laughable. Where was Draco?

"You are in luck, the last pair in your size," the shop assistant had returned and her announcement was music to Hermione's ears. She slipped them on and stood up, feeling rather sophisticated, and sexy. She loved shoes that strapped around the ankle.

"Hermione, they look hot!" Padma declared. It was decided, Hermione nodded to the assistant who beamed at the simpleness of the transaction.

"What the hell, I'll take all three, Blaise doesn't have to know." Hermione smiled. If only it were that easy.

"Where's Draco?"

Hermione shrugged, "I was thinking the same thing."

"Shall we purchase outfits to match our shoes?" Padma directed.

"Naturally," Hermione laughed. She couldn't recall the last time she had shopped with a friend. It was always in haste during lunch breaks, if ever.

Draco was standing outside, hands in pockets, looking rather smug about something. "What happened to you? Don't tell me you're bored already?" Padma questioned.

"Not at all, I just had to pick up something. Where to next ladies?"

The morning and the early afternoon continued so, with Padma leading Hermione on a frenzy, and Draco following. He never once showed impatience, even when Hermione was starting to feel drained. "Cheer up, Granger, you're _shopping_. I thought all women loved to shop?" he teased, as Hermione had decided on her final purchase for the day.

"I just don't have the stamina that Padma seems to possess in the art of shopping," she defended, sitting down opposite Draco in the waiting area of the change rooms. He had been discreet enough to maintain a cool demeanour when Padma had insisted he give his opinions on their outfits. She could tell from his eyes though, whether or not he approved of an outfit. He cocked an eyebrow at her terminology.

"And what about in other recreational activities?" he suggested.

"I think you know the answer to that," she returned, matter-of-factly. He leant forward, ready to say something, when Padma walked out of the change room.

"Okay, I'm ready," she stated definitively. "I think it's just about time for lunch."

Hermione sighed with relief.

"Do you need me to hold some of your bags Granger?"

"Thanks, but that won't be necessary," she checked to see if the area was devoid of muggles and promptly shrunk her bags and placed them into her charmed handbag.

"That thing must carry your whole life," he replied, overwhelmed by its capacity.

"It's possible," Hermione offered, vaguely. She could see Padma talking animatedly with the cashier and sat back in the chair for a moment's rest, closing her eyes.

She heard Draco walk over to her, she opened her eyes. He held out his hand.

"You're really playing up to the role of chaperone, aren't you?"

"If you think so," he shrugged. She took his hand and he pulled her up so quickly she crashed into his chest. Their eyes locked briefly, and then he did something he was yet to do. He kissed her softly on the mouth, in a public place, before letting go of her and walking over to Padma. That small gesture left her breathless.

ooo

The three spent the afternoon lunching at a restaurant in the main square, indulging on traditional pizza of three authentic toppings: cheese, basil and tomato, before heading back to the Zabini estate.

"Thank-you for your services, Draco; you were quite the gentlemen this afternoon." Padma joked approvingly. "You and Hermione seem to be getting along great these days, I am proud of your maturity."

"You lead by example, Padma. You are marrying Blaise, after all. He was a right prat back at school." Their light banter was refreshing as Hermione walked behind them through to the gardens. It was true though, even when he was frustrated with her, he had not challenged her once this weekend.

Blaise was lying on a sun chair, his sunnies on, snoozing with a butterbeer in one hand, and a pile of documents resting on his chest.

Draco walked up to him and nudged him on the shoulder before sitting on the edge of the chair. Blaise awoke with a fright almost dropping his drink. "Shit, Draco!" he reprimanded, sounding half asleep.

"I see you've been working hard."

"Leave me alone," Blaise muttered.

Hermione laughed at the exchange and sat on one of the iron garden chairs.

"Where's Padma?" Blaise lifted his glasses and looked around.

"Right here, darling," she walked over and kissed him on the lips. "Draco was very good to us today, not like you when you come shopping."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't do it as often as me, the novelty of checking you out while you try on clothes hasn't worn off yet," Blaise defended. "What did you think of Siena, Hermione?"

"Loved it," Hermione smiled. "I have quite a few new wardrobe items that I'm quite excited about."

"Hermione bought some sexy shoes," Padma revealed.

"I won't challenge you on that Padma, I am very pleased with them." She caught Draco's eye and he sent her a knowing smirk.

The four of them lazed about until sunset, drinking and talking. Padma and Hermione had their girly exchange of overzealous shop talk, Hermione discussed medical advancements with Blaise, and finally, managed to goad out of Draco, with a little assistance from Blaise, when the Pureblood Slytherin had actually started using muggle devices.

ooo

The sun had finally set and the satisfied drowsiness of an eventful day had finally overcome Hermione. She wondered how on earth she was getting home, trying to catch Draco's attention to ask him about it. He seemed to catch on as he looked up at the sky and then at Hermione.

"I'm taking a portkey back; you can head back with me Granger, or go with Padma and Blaise later on." he shrugged.

"How soon is shortly," Hermione queried.

"In about five minutes," he surmised, half smiling.

"I might head back with you then; I have a few things to do before work tomorrow."

Blaise looked over at her, lifting his sunglasses up once more, resting them on his head. "Always the workaholic, I know how you feel," he smiled.

"Thanks for having me stay Blaise, I had a great time," Hermione replied.

"Anytime, Hermione. Come down next weekend even."

"Thanks, Blaise," she stood up and walked over to Padma who was pouring herself a drink.

"I'm going to head back with Malfoy,"

"Oh, so soon?" Padma gave her a hug. "Thanks for keeping me company this weekend, my new shopping buddy. You have great taste by the way."

"Thanks, Padma," Hermione laughed. "We should do coffee or lunch next week sometime."

"Or, shopping?"

"Or shopping," Herimone agreed.

"Ready to go, Granger?" Draco walked over.

"Whenever you are," she replied.

"I'll be seeing you Padma," his kissed her cheek. She laughed at his curtness.

"Ever the Draco Malfoy," she shook her head.

ooo

Hermione and Draco arrived in his office. It felt so strange to be back.

"I'll apparate with you to your place," he said, walking over to his desk and taking the ring off his finger, placing it in the first draw. The resoluteness of his tone warranted no challenge on the matter.

He walked back over to her and grabbed her hand; she felt the familiar pull hit her once more. The man was full of surprises, for she did not expect them to be able to apparate from inside.

"I have special privileges," he offered, guessing what she was thinking as they arrived outside her building. She could only nod.

"I had a really good time," she finally admitted. He stood watching her as she shuffled her feet, slightly unsure of herself now that they had returned. Hermione found herself wondering if he had enjoyed her company and what would come next? It was all too foreign. She furrowed her brow as she mentally berated herself for over thinking it while he stood before her. She looked up at him and smiled gently.

"I did too, Granger. I especially liked your shaving skills." With that, he leant over and kissed her softly on the lips, "Night, Granger," he said in a low voice, before apparating. She pursed her lips in delight.

* * *

A/N: Link to the shoes Hermione buys on profile page!


	23. The Obsession

**A/N: I am sure it is a surpise to many that finally I've updated this story. Well, I have and I am as surprised as Hermione is by the end of this chapter. This has been in the works for a long while. I did go through a re-edit with all the earlier chapters and they're up on Hawthorn&Vine if you would like to refresh your memories on what this story is actually about and read from there. Anyway, enjoy, and would love to hear from those who are still reading! xoxo**

* * *

Shielded by a stack of books, on top of which were further parchments piled, Hermione put down her quill and sighed. It had been a week since her getaway in Tuscany and she still hadn't recovered. Well, whatever recovery she hoped for was a sense of normalcy to her week. But her weekend with Malfoy, which she now referred to as her 'dirty weekend' – and not just for obvious reasons – was taking up a lot of her free thinking time.

Her obsessive thoughts stemmed from the fact that Malfoy had not contacted her and she'd spend the week contemplating what she should be doing about it. So far, she'd just let herself be overthrown by the consuming thoughts of 'what now' and whether there would be a 'next time' which had driven her back to the one thing she had a strong hold on – work. Except that she was working harder than ever.

It wasn't the easiest scenario to unwrap – the isolation of the events in Italy made it even more surreal – but at night, when she lay awake, she let herself play with the idea that maybe he wanted something more. As much as Hermione tried to deny it, even she had toyed with the thought that maybe she did, too. And then she started to picture them together, as a couple. The one thing she feared most.

Except that neither of them had so much as sent an Owl to one another. Was it up to her to initiate? If precedent was anything to go by, if Malfoy wanted something, he wasn't one to hesitate. And yet, a week of silence had passed and she was paralysed with thought.

A knock at the door drew her out of her daydream and Hermione stretched her neck over her mini fortress to see Daria standing in the doorway.

"Do I have a meeting?" Hermione asked absently.

"Nothing scheduled. But there is someone here requesting to see you."

She didn't know why, but for a split haired moment, Hermione's insides clenched at the hope it would be Malfoy. Masking her pause, she replied, "Who is it?"

"A Mr. Parker?" Daria gazed at Hermione over her glasses, waiting for validation that he was someone worth letting in.

Hermione rubbed her forehead to mask her surprise and stood up. "I suppose I need a break." She shrugged, wondering what could bring Sebastian Parker to her office.

"Isn't he a journalist?" Daria asked, unable to conceal her general aversion to his kind. She had concentrated her displeasure in her tightly formed lips.

Hermione nodded. "A recent acquaintance, so I don't want to be rude." Thoughts of Padma's matchmaking attempts came to mind. She hoped this wouldn't be a bad move on her part.

"Very well, I'll send him in."

Hermione moved around her desk, smoothing her skirt – the crease lines in the fabric were deep and telling of a solid morning's work, as she had barely moved from her desk. She adjusted the collar of her blouse, lifting her hair away from her neck to release the errant stands that had crept under her clothes.

Sebastian stepped in just as she let her hair fall. He flashed a warm smile as his intense gaze fell on her. "Hello, Hermione."

"Sebastian."

"I was just over at the Business Licenses department when I noticed Muggle Relations was on the same floor and I remembered you were Head of the Department. Well, how could I forget, really," he admitted.

Hermione smiled. She couldn't help wondering what he was doing over at Lavender's department. "Oh, were you here on business?" she asked.

"Business – you could say that, but I was hoping to end on a social note."

Hermione was confused. It showed.

He smiled. "What I mean to say, is that... well, I was hoping you would say, 'yes', to lunch." He sent her a hopeful glance, one that Hermione knew she would struggle to resist.

Padma had set this up, she just knew it. Hermione glanced at the wall clock. It was almost half-one and she hadn't been out for lunch all week. She supposed it wouldn't hurt.

"Sure, that would be nice," she replied.

"Great!" His eyes lit up. "I know a fantastic little Japanese place. It's run by a Wizard originally from Kyoto and he serves up –" He paused and gave a sheepish grin. "I should probably ask if you like Japanese food, huh?"

The man was nervous. Hermione almost blushed at the thought. "Japanese is fine," she reassured.

He sighed with relief. "Shall we?"

It wasn't that Hermione did not find Sebastian's company enjoyable – she was actually amenable to going to lunch with him. It was the fact that she found herself comparing him to Malfoy rather than just simply being in his company.

The way he ordered his meal, engaged in small talk, drank from his glass, and even chewed his food, for crying out loud. The analysis was constant and overactive – these little nodes alerting her to comparative ticks and crosses. It was awful. For her and for Sebastian, because she hardly knew the guy and here she was, setting him up for competition with her apparent lover. She cringed at the thought as she bit into her rather delicious nori roll.

"You don't like it?" Sebastian asked.

He must have mistaken her frown as judgment of the food. She shook her head. "No, it's delicious – really fresh, actually. I was just... I just remembered something I need to do by the end of the day," she replied.

"Well, then. I guess desert and a walk is out of the question." He shot her a grin from across the table, as he reached for his glass.

Hermione laughed. "I'm afraid so." She watched him tilt his head back more than he needed to and take a gulp. The degree of observation that was currently consuming her irked her into silence.

Hermione took another mouthful. His gaze on her wasn't helping and she struggled to chew her food in fear that she was taking too long. She swallowed hard. "So, what new areas are you covering at the moment?" she asked.

He seemed to light up at her question. "Funny you should ask. A journalist never reveals his – or _her_ – sources, but I am looking into a rumour that's popped up about a stack of licenses that were issued. If I can substantiate it with fact...well, let just say, it won't be something that will disappear overnight."

Hermione smiled. "Sounds like you have your work cut out for you, then."

"You can say that again. It's a bloody labyrinth trying to even get in contact with the right people at the Ministry let alone draw out any information."

"Ministry delay tactics. It's what we do best," Hermione tipped. "I don't normally do this, but I have a friend in the licensing department who could point you in the right direction." Why was she offering to help him?

"Really? That would be great."

"From one researcher to another, I completely understand your frustrations. As a Ministry employee, I can't really do much else."

He leaned forward and looked at her with thankful sincerity. "Has anyone ever told you how amazing you are? And I would never ask you to compromise yourself in that way, Hermione."

Oh, how she could feel the blush creep up on her cheeks as warmth spread across her neck. Hermione wanted to cringe at the school yard charm she had just fallen for without a hint of pre-emptive awareness that it was coming. Sebastian had just managed to flatter and charm her while simultaneously gaining a favour. Malfoy had just met his match.

"Not in so many words," she added quickly.

"Well, I insist on reminding you. We should do this again."

"Exchange compliments, or eat?" She was flirting something rotten.

"No harm in doing both," he said, as a telling grin graced his features.

"I suppose I'm well versed in multi-tasking."

"It will give us an opportunity to test how well. I'll Owl you."

It was scary how quickly she had succumbed to the charm of another man and refused to believe it was because she was feeling vulnerable about the situation, or lack thereof, with Malfoy. And to top it all off, Hermione was left with the slight issue of having to ask Lavender for a favour.

ooo

"So how exactly do you know Mr. Parker?" Daria asked when they sat down for their planning meeting the next afternoon.

"I met him recently at a...uh, at a lunch." Hermione tapped her quill against her pile of files in distraction. It was the ninth day since her weekend away and still no contact from Malfoy. "Why?"

"He's handsome." Daria went silent.

"But he's a journalist," Hermione said, knowing that it was what Daria wanted to emphasise.

"Well, he's no Rita Skeeter, but unless there's another Parker in journalism, this one's quite cynical of the Ministry."

Hermione gave Daria a long contemplative look. "It can't always be the case that all journalists are just after a story." Herimone was thinking out loud now.

Daria shrugged. "If one does not want to generalise, then perhaps he isn't."

Hermione smiled. Daria always had the right answers. If only she could ask her advice about Malfoy. She watched her assistant pull out her calendar as they got on with their meeting.

"Well, the good news is we should receive delivery this week of the first issue of _Understanding Muggles. _I have here that you are due to meet with Malfoy Corporation to plan the launch party. Bad news, I haven't had a response from the Owl I sent to Mr. Malfoy's offices to set up the meeting." She gave Hermione an inquisitive look. "Quite unusual seeing how proactive he was last time."

Hermione pursed her lips. "When did you send the Owl?"

"A week ago."

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat as a barrage of scenarios flooded her mind. Could Malfoy have been insulted by the informal Owl notice that she didn't even know had been sent? Surely he would have barged into her office with some snide remark about her standard issue Owl. Maybe he had just given up? Or, maybe he hadn't received it? She knew he had trouble keeping assistants. Perhaps he was out of town.

"Hermione?"

"Hmmm."

"Do you want me to send another Owl?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Do you want me to send Mr. Malfoy – "

"No, that's okay. Leave it with me." She didn't realise how it might have come across until Daria spoke.

"Very well." Daria looked slightly affronted.

Hermione put her quill down and pressed the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry, Daria."

"You know Hermione, I'm here to help you – and not just with work. I've noticed you've been doing crazy hours this past week."

The heavy load that had occupied her stomach was rising to her throat. Hermione swallowed, quashing the silly emotions that were building. "How are the preliminary arrangements for the launch party?" she asked.

Daria sighed. "We're all set to host the launch a week from Saturday, which leaves us with a few days to finalise things."

"Good. Well I will make it a priority."

"I think we can leave the rest for tomorrow." Daria said.

Hermione nodded distractedly as Daria stood up to exit. "Daria, I'll be out this afternoon."

ooo

Hermione walked down the now familiar corridor into the open space fronting the offices of Draco Malfoy only to be greeted by a woman with jet black hair who sat behind the desk with a settled comfort. Curiosity took over and Hermione stopped still for a moment.

The girl stood up. "Can I help you Ms...?"

"Granger. And it's Miss Granger." She walked forward.

"Do you have an appointment?" The girl looked at her with critical eyes. She was well aware that Hermione didn't have an appointment. Hermione wished Mac was still here, and not just because he was male but that definitely helped.

"No, I don't. I'm from the Ministry." Not that it meant anything but she wanted to instil in the girl that it did. Hermione walked towards Malfoy's office door.

The girl almost jumped out from behind her desk.

"If you can please take a seat, I will inform Draco of your visit."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the first name reference and then instantly wanted to slap herself for acting so childish. She could easily take control of the situation. "That won't be necessary. I'll tell him myself."

"Miss Granger – " The girl almost yelled as Hermione opened the heavy door, pushing it open and stepping through the threshold.

She was greeted with a scene that not even she could have conjured in her analytical head.

Two tall blond men turned around, both looking at her with surprise – one with more of a familiar astonishment as he shot out of his chair, and the other with intrigued amusement.

Hermione stopped short as her own breath caught in her throat, unable to mask her shock. The black haired assistant almost ran into the back of her. "I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy, I know you said no interruptions but I couldn't stop her."

"It's fine, Raven."

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend, Draco."

No introductions were necessary.

"Granger, you remember my father, Lucius."

* * *

A/N: Draco has some explaining to do!


	24. Free Fall

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who is back on board with this story. Bringing Lucius into the mix was a thrill and I am excited about things to come. A testing time for Hermione having to dealy with two Malfoys! Enjoy! :p **

* * *

The instant Raven had shut the door behind her, time seemed to freeze. Hermione could feel her insides twist and her heart accelerate to an unfavourable patter that drew in her attention, trumping her ability to speak. She was tongue tied, astonished and – she hated to admit – intimidated.

How could anyone possibly forget Lucius Malfoy? She forced a breath and exhaled. "Yes, of course. Hello, Mr. Malfoy." That sounded much too friendly for her liking.

"Miss Granger." Lucius gave a small nod as he stood up from his seat to face her. At full height, Hermione's attention was instantly commanded to take note of his demanding stature and graceful air. She glanced down at the silver snake head of his cane, concealing his wand. For a moment, she remembered herself as the the young girl in Flourish and Blotts trying to mask her fear of the infamous Senior Malfoy as he towered over her. Now, the family heir loom almost winded her as the pair of emeralds sparkling between the fingers of his leisurely draped hand stared back at her tauntingly.

"You're looking well. The Ministry must be a healthy place for its employees these days," he said, half raising an eyebrow like he approved.

Hermione swallowed, unable to decide whether she was supposed to thank him for the compliment or affirm the Ministry's amenable working environment. One thing was certain – Lucius knew how to make a woman blush out of sheer uncertainty in how to interpret his observations.

Malfoy cleared his throat, breaking her away from her attentions, and she finally looked over at the man who had kept her awake at night for the last nine days. As her eyes scanned over him, only then did she realise that he was in a full three piece suit. He looked... good. She exhaled lightly, feeling flushed and overwhelmed. Despite his outward appearance of affluence and power, she could see that Malfoy was trying hard to conceal his unease at the haemorrhaging thought of having his father in her presence.

She wanted to yell out that it was much worse for her. In fact, she just wanted to hex him for his exaggerated trepidation.

Whether Lucius was growing impatient, or had noticed their silent dialogue, he certainly knew how to break the ice. Then again, he was somewhat of a specialist in the realm of uncomfortable situations and was obviously intrigued by the little fact that she had just burst into Malfoy's office unannounced. She cringed.

"Draco, you can't leave your guest standing at the door. Miss Granger, please, won't you make yourself comfortable." He used his cane to gesture toward the couches.

"Granger, can I get you a drink?" Draco finally spoke up. He walked over and started pouring the Firewhisky without waiting for a reply.

"Actually, I was just..." She almost sounded like a frightened school girl. "Um, sure," she corrected, straightening her shoulders. Hermione walked across the room toward the couches, resigned to the reality that there was no way out of this afternoon delight anytime soon. She could feel Lucius's gaze follow her every step with an evaluating stare that could not be rivalled.

It was somewhat of a relief that she had chosen to wear her recently purchased shoes – although they did little to challenge the bespoke standard of a Malfoy's style, they certainly helped raise her standard of dress to something more acceptable in present company.

She moved around the coffee table, choosing not to sit on the couch where she and Malfoy had first... passed the point of no return, so to speak. She watched Malfoy with narrowed eyes as he walked over and handed her a drink, his fingers gently brushing hers – 'a rather poor attempt to console her,' she thought – as she took the glass from his hand. His expression, however, remained distant. Hermione searched for a glimmer of real acknowledgment before he stepped away and stood at the edge of the coffee table, almost as if he was trying to consciously maintain a respectable distance.

Lucius walked over and sat opposite. If her thoughts were anything to go by, she could only imagine what Malofy thought of having his father sit on the very couch his son had taken a Muggleborn.

As he sank into the leather, she watched Lucius look across at his son – a thoughtful, slightly curious expression breaking through his faultless features. "Surely you can refer to Miss Granger's given name, Draco? Even in a professional setting, I find it very peculiar that you've maintained the habit of using her family name."

Hermione could see Draco's shoulders tense. She didn't blame him. Pointing out the one thing that highlighted just how far back their acquaintance went only emphasised what had come to pass in the last few months.

"Consider it a term of endearment," Draco said, taking a swig of his drink. It was almost too defiant a response. Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed. His body language didn't not even remotely warrant making light of the observation.

Lucius scrutinised his son with delicate inquiry. "Indeed. I didn't realise how... re-acquainted you were."

Was it suddenly hot in here? Hermione almost felt like she was having an out of body experience. She needed to speak up. She was Hermione Granger: strong willed, independent and certainly no longer so easily intimidated by the likes of Lucius. Except for the little fact that the last time she saw him was in a room full of people and, at the time, she had not slept with his son.

"We are working closely on a project," Hermione heard herself say. Choice words, she mentally chided as she finally saw Malfoy show signs of acknowledgement with a small smirk behind his glass as he brought it to his lips.

It was almost like he was enjoying their little secret. Her eyes wandered once again to the serpent head on Lucius's stick as she took a sip of her own drink, hoping its warmth would encourage her stomach to stop churning and suppress that fly on the wall state she was currently suffering.

"Hmm, yes. I was informed that Draco has secured ties with some Ministry publication," he recollected and then looked across at her with pointed interest. "I wasn't aware that your department was involved. What exactly do you do at the Ministry, Miss Granger?"

"I'm the Director of Muggle Relations."

All Hermione heard was the ice hit the bottom of Malfoy's glass after he downed the rest of his drink. Clearly, Malfoy had failed to divulge the salient aspects of their working relationship.

"Father, it was a strategic move. We are able to boost our market share by advertising in the most popular Ministry publication. They were intending to shut it down altogether, but our contribution now allows for a rather decent magazine."

Although somewhat thankful of Malfoy's rather positive explanation, Hermione was on tenterhooks as she waited for Lucius to respond. "And when will this little magazine be launched?"

"It will be more than just a magazine," Draco added.

And it most certainly was more than 'little', Hermione wanted to protest. She clutched her glass tightly in an effort to compose herself. Lucius was as bad as her mother. "That is why I'm here." Hermione said abruptly, needing to break her silence. "We are due to receive the print of the first issue and need to finalise the launch party." Hermione had forgotten to breathe.

"Hmm."

His vague response unsettled her even more. Malfoy, however, seemed to relax completely. Perhaps she had to let her guard down and take his lead. She could almost hear the wheels turn in the elder Malfoy's head as he absorbed the new information. He leaned forward slightly, amplifying his concentrated gaze.

"Miss Granger, about this purported launch, when and where exactly do you intend to host the event?"

Lucius's appraising glance made her fidget and she shifted consciously into the leather. It was unnerving having him so intently regard her with Malfoy a few feet away watching her reaction. Two Malfoys. She barely had a handle on one.

"Current arrangements are in the Ministry atrium a week from Saturday."

She watched him process, the intensity of his gaze cooling. "I would consider that to be a very last minute arrangement. How do you expect important officials to attend?"

"It is a Saturday, Father. Not much else is going on this month." Draco drawled. He seemed completely unfazed.

Lucius leaned back against the couch again, his long fingers curling over the head of his cane with calculated thought. Hermione was on the verge of a fleeing the room. She chose to drink the rest of her Firewhisky in a desperate act of distraction.

"You will host it at the Manor."

Hermione almost choked.

"Father, we do not want to show we are taking charge. Malfoy Corporation is a collaborator, not the driver. Besides, our contractual arrangements won't allow it. "

"Won't allow the financial contributor to have a say in the launch party? That is debatable, Draco. Do not mock me." His tone was reprimanding.

"Miss Granger, you will be guaranteed interest from people who aren't so forthcoming with the idea of a magazine about... Muggles."

This was getting out of hand. "I assure you, it is not just about Muggles." She sent Malfoy a hard stare. He needed to quash Lucius' absurd idea, and quickly. Hermione could not imagine anything worse.

"Our marketing and advertising department is handling the particulars, Father."

Her look turned quizzical. How was he hoping to settle anything?

"Who exactly?"

"Carla Crowe, the Director."

"Irrelevant. You trump the decision of your directors, Draco. And I trump yours."

Hermione was not impressed. "Mr. Malfoy..." They both looked at her. "Uh, Lucius, thank you for the offer, but I can assure you, attendance will not be a problem. It has been flagged for months and the Minister has informally communicated it to relevant officials. He is rather excited about it, actually."

"I will speak with him."

She inhaled. "I insist that won't be necessary. Mal- uh, Draco and I have it all in hand."

Forget hexing, Malfoy. She wanted to kill him for not briefing Lucius about this rather important project.

The smile that formed on Lucius lips was all too disconcerting. Perhaps she had sounded too desperate and insistent about her view. "Very well, I see you will not be moved on the matter." Then again, it seemed to work.

He leant forward, gracefully stretching out his arm so that his cane stood tall, and smoothly rose to his feet.

"I will not intervene, Draco. You and Miss Granger may do as you please, for now."

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, unable to resist the thought that there was some underlying meaning to his statement. She glanced at Draco for validation. He shook his head dismissively as his father walked toward the office door.

"Miss Granger, I'd almost forgotten how committed you are to your work. Rather tactful of Draco to catch on in a positive light," he replied, a smirk forming on his face as his eyes travelled from her to his son. "Perhaps I will see you at the launch. I always enjoy a visit to the Ministry."

Hermione could only manage a half smile. She was too busy being distracted by her own meddlesome thoughts trying to unpack anything Lucius said. It was almost unbearable that she could not read him at all.

"Don't wear him out Miss Granger."

Her eyes almost popped out of their sockets as Lucius gave a small laugh at his own joke.

"Father, please."

"You mother expects you at dinner this evening, Draco." With that, he opened the door and swiftly walked through, the resounding click emanating through the room.

It was just the two of them again after nine days. Hermione stared down at her now empty glass, wondering how she had just survived that ordeal.

"Don't take my father seriously, Granger," he said, finally.

She could only scoff at the mild statement. "You could have told me you were busy. In fact, I can't believe you haven't told your father about this rather significant shift in his company's choice of investments."

"I didn't realise we were at a stage where we were updating each other on family affairs. Besides, he likes the idea, Granger."

Hermione pursed her lips as she placed her empty glass on the table. "A quick Owl is not so hard, you know," she said.

"I can't say it's any worse than your standard office issue through your assistant."

"That didn't stop you last time," she defended, knowing it was exactly what she deserved.

He gave her a long look. "That was before we spent the weekend together." He set his empty glass down next to hers and sighed. "You're all mixed signals, Granger. What am I supposed to think? Besides, I'm a little under the pump with my father showing up unexpectedly to check up on me and have me attend all these bloody meetings."

Hermione folded her hands in retreat, suddenly quiet. "Don't you see your parents?" she asked, sidetracking from the real issue.

"I see them once a month, Granger, and at social events. It's controlled and that's how I like it. My father, for some reason, has made it his prerogative to be on my case for the last week." He raked his fingers through his hair – only then did she notice that it looked much tidier. Obviously he had cleaned himself up for his father's visit. She wondered for a moment if the Malfoy she had come to know was really him, or just the result of a phase.

She felt the seat next to her sink as Malfoy sat down. "Think my father caught on?"

Hermione shrugged. Who knew what was running through Lucius' head. "I think you're better qualified to answer that one."

She felt his hand brush her hair as he toyed with the collar of her jacket.

"Does it bother you that I still call you 'Granger'?"

"Not as much as your father pointing it out," Hermione replied absently.

Malfoy chuckled as he leaned in and placed a kiss her neck. "What if I did call you Hermione?" he said into her ear, her name deliciously rolling off his tongue.

Against her better judgment – given that she was obviously irritated with him at that moment – Hermione closed her eyes, submitting to his touch. Malfoy brought his other hand up to cup her cheek, tilting her head toward his lips. The instant he kissed her mouth, she could feel herself crumbling to the delights of male attention like a wayward schoolgirl. Well, it had been nine days.

It didn't take much before they were both heavily involved in an embrace that had her all flustered in mere minutes. The caress of his tongue and the warmth of his mouth was clouding any sense of indignation she had planned to unleash on her arrival, or perhaps after Lucius had left given _that_ unexpected interruption.

Not to mention, this was probably the worst time to christen the other couch. Hermione groaned into his mouth and reluctantly pushed him away.

"This is too much," she said.

He slid back against the couch, reluctantly. 'Great,' she thought. She certainly could repel him just as quickly.

"I thought we said we would just go with it?" he said after a few breaths.

"Right," she murmured. Hermione stood up. "I see. You're just happy to go along with this until the game is up. Until your duties or whatever your father has planned for you come around." Lucius' serpent heirloom flashed before her eyes.

He narrowed his eyes in bemusement. "Granger, what has gotten into you?"

Fumbling mentally, she didn't even know how to broach the subject. "I am not interested in being some woman you see on weekends for a good time, Malfoy." There, she said it – probably a little too bluntly.

Mild surprise crossed his face before he shook his head. "Is that what you think I mean by it?"

"Just forget it. It's not why I came here anyway," she dismissed.

He did not look impressed. "I can't keep up with you, Granger! Tell me what it is you want."

"The Minister expects you to say a few words after his speech on Saturday. There is also the suggestion that we hold a silent auction to raise –

"Granger –

"- money for St. Mungo's Research. There is also the issue of the Minister's intention to give the Muggle Prime Minister a subscription, so we need you to sign this consent form to conceal your ad space, or a confidentiality waiver if you prefer your –

"Will you just –

"- company name to remain visible. I also have with me a copy of the Ministry's guest list for you to add to, a sample invitation for your approval, and the proposed schedule for the evening. The invites need to go out with tomorrow's Owl post. I also have a contact for your advertising department to get in touch with if you would like to display any logos or banners on the evening, but we –

"Hermione, enough!" He stood up, his irritation apparent.

Stunned by his commanding tone, Hermione went quiet and wave of silence crashed around them. He had made it sound so personal! She shut her eyes to control the building sting threatening the onslaught of tears now that she had stopped her incessant talking. When had she become a self indulgent, testy female – the very type she had always judged with amusement?

Hermione looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "It might be best if we leave it for today," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

She could hear his feet move across the carpet, the distance of the sound growing. When she finally let her eyes search for him, he was standing at the window behind his desk looking out. He had taken his jacket off and thrown it on the back of the chair. She watched as he lifted an arm up to rake his hair, the satin back of his vest tightenening around his torso, catching the light in the room.

"You're right."

She nodded, her lips pursed in defeat as she pulled the file of documents from her handbag to place them on the table. Without saying another word, she rushed to exit, not bothering to shut the door behind her or even acknowledge the assistant on her way out.

* * *

That night, Hermione sat down and wrote Harry an Owl, enclosing an invite, not caring that it wasn't Malfoy approved, asking – no, begging – him to try and make it. She needed him there.

She had made a royal mess of it all, and now, all she could do was resign herself to the fact that she had got it all wrong. _Him_ all wrong. Acceptance was difficult, especially when it was her fault.

Sitting at her kitchen table, Hermione ran her palm across her forehead, closing her eyes. She had finally fallen over the edge of her mental boundaries and had defied her one overarching rule.

Any semblance of control in any facet of her life was lost with the wind along with her dignity.


	25. Slippery Admission

**Disclaimer: same as previous chapters.  
**

**A/N: This chapter was written months ago and has been posted on Hawthorn and Vine - I have only just got around to posting it here...finally! Apologies a thousand times over for the lack of updates in recent past to this story (and others) but they have not been forgotten. Life has just got in the way. :p**

* * *

It was possibly the only thing Lucius had ever said to Draco that seemed to be the subject of recurring recollection. It had been a fleeting comment and he was only seventeen at the time, but it still resonated within him. Lucius had returned one night from some black tie event and found Draco awake. Instead of reprimanding his son for not being in bed, Lucius had gestured him into his study to sit down while he drank.

Perhaps it was because it had been the first time that his father had treated him like an adult that made the memory so vivid. Whatever the reason, it seemed to have stuck. "Every woman wants to be adored, Draco. But the moment they find out it's not genuine, they will eat you alive like a hungry serpent," he had said.

In hindsight, Draco wondered if his father had been engaged in some sort of affair.

"Draco, dear, you are very quiet this evening," his mother interrupted his train of thought.

They were seated at the dinner table, between courses. Lucius was pouring the wine as Draco watched. His mother was in one of her concerned moods this evening. It annoyed him that she could pick and choose when she wanted to take an interest in his life.

"For a change, I think our son has work on his mind," Lucius supplied as he passed a full glass to his wife.

Draco rolled his eyes. His mother looked across at him expectantly. "Well that should hardly be a surprise. It's going on two years since you took on your father's appointment. Work is the only steady thing you have."

Lucius grunted his approval as he drank from his glass. His mother knew it wasn't in response to her comment.

"Really, Lucius, do you have to carry on like that?"

"Darling, you're yet to try the wine, and so I shall reserve any comment until I see your reaction."

Draco let out a small laugh and drank from his glass, nodding with satisfaction as the smooth drop ignited his tastebuds. "Well, it's by far his best."

Narcissa took a delicate sip, her eyebrows rising in surprise as she swallowed. Lucius chuckled at her expression. "Don't restrain yourself, dear. It's perfectly fine to admit that my reaction was warranted."

"Oh, Lucius, don't be ridiculous. It's very nice, but it's not like you've been deprived of the finest wine in your lifetime."

"Send my commendations to Blaise. It's not every day I drink a fine drop made by my son's good friend. I was right to order a dozen boxes." Draco could only guess where this conversation was leading as he looked at his mother's reaction to the news.

"It's lovely to see that Blaise is finding success in his interests outside of his job. Now there's a young man who's getting his life in order. What about you, Draco? What have you been up to besides turning up to the office every day?"

"Mother – "

"No need to worry, Narcissa. Draco certainly has found a hobby." Lucius smirked.

"Oh?"

Draco sighed. Either his father had guessed right about Granger, or it was his way of fishing for information to confirm his suspicions. He was thinking the former was the most likely. Lucius possessed a sixth sense for the unspoken.

"Where did she say she worked? Muggle Relations? How... charming."

"Who works in Muggle Relations?" His father was in one of his teasing moods and Draco could see his smirk widen as his mother pursed her lips in annoyance. If it was one thing she hated, it was not being privy to gossip.

"Father, really. There is nothing to say."

"Rather pretty young thing. Great legs." He swirled his glass in admiration; the double meaning not escaping Draco.

Draco growled under his breath. "Is that necessary?" he asked, looking at his mother and wishing he had feigned some excuse to avoid dinner. After his episode with Granger earlier that afternoon, he was hardly in the mood to discuss it. They just all wanted to know too much for his liking.

"I can certainly see why she's piqued your interest. Although, I didn't intend your role to be that hands on when I appointed you, Draco."

"What is your father going on about?" Narcissa asked with a clipped tone, narrowing her eyes at her husband who seemed rather too satisfied about something. "Lucius, you are really bothersome sometimes."

"If you would both let me speak –"

"Don't be surprised if your son brings her home to meet you, Narcissa. Now that would be a first in a long blood line." Lucius laughed at his own joke.

Draco tightened his grip on his glass; he could feel his rising fury painting his face as the heat rose past his neck. "Enough." He looked at Narcissa, ignoring his father. "Mother, I'm currently engaging the company in a project with the Ministry. Yes, it is with the department of Muggle Relations. We are sponsoring a Ministry publication. Yes, it's the first of our dealings with the Ministry in a long time, but I don't see how the choice of department is any surprise given the fact that I've been doing business in the Muggle world since Father let me step foot into a board room." It came out a little too defensive. And he had avoided mentioning her name.

"Well it must be something to have your father speaking in riddles," she quipped. Draco was not going to cave.

"Business is business, Mother. I'd prefer not to bore you with details, although I would like you to attend the launch event a week from Saturday... if you're free."

"Oh, delightful! Lucius, why haven't you mentioned this launch?"

"No need, dear. I expect Draco has arranged for the invitations. It is getting rather urgent, isn't it?" Draco was not amused, unlike his father who seemed to be getting a kick out of every moment and every minute detail.

"Well, if it's a week from Saturday, I expect that it is." Narcissa agreed.

Lucius nodded his approval, his eyes lighting up with mischief. "I can't imagine why the Head of the department would need to visit it weren't. Owls usually suffice for communications, especially coming from the Ministry."

Draco shook his head before downing the rest of his glass. "Everything is under control, Father. Don't worry yourself."

"Oh, your father is just being difficult. It's very accommodating for the head of the department to see to it personally. I imagine they are very appreciative of your sponsorship, Draco," Narcissa said.

Lucius snorted.

"Lucius!" Narcissa reprimanded. "Don't be so juvenile. Draco is doing very well – I would have the right mind to say that after your dealings with the Ministry, he has done a very good thing to have re-established positive relations." Draco was somewhat taken aback by his mother's defensive tone. It was a rare thing to have her on his side.

"Thank you, Mother. Now if you will excuse me, I might head up to my old room and re-acquaint myself for the evening. I've a few urgent work matters to attend to." Draco stood up, his glass in hand, turning once, then turning back to grab the bottle in front of his father, a ghost of a smirk crossing his face. "Don't be so jealous, Father. Sorry you can't take credit for this bit of strategic genius. Getting Hermione Granger was simply the added bonus."

He heard his mother gasp as he walked out of the room. Let Lucius explain that one, he thought, chuckling. His momentary amusement was followed by a shake of the head. He would be regretting that indirect admission in the morning.

OOO

The sun hitting from the left stirred Draco awake from his heavy sleep. Disoriented, he opened his eyes and, for a moment, wondered where he was. The sun always trickled in from the right at his place. He looked around with groggy eyes, his gaze falling on the double doors that opened to his bedroom at the Manor. He had fallen asleep on the couch in the sitting room of his old quarters.

Groaning, Draco sat up and rubbed his face. He felt like he had been hit over the head with a brick. Great. He was hung over and his neck and shoulders had cramped and felt like a twisted rag.

Just awful.

He moved to the edge of the seat, slowly standing and running a hand through his dishevelled hair, tilting his head from side to side to loosen up his neck as he rubbed at the base. He shook his head. Honestly, he thought, I couldn't even make it twenty feet to the bed. His eyes wandered to his desk nearby. It was covered with papers, marked up parchment, and the telling empty glass and bottle of wine. Next to that was a half empty bottle of Firewhisky.

"Shit," he muttered. He had meant to send out a stack of Owls; to Carla and... Granger. That explained the Firewhisky. Instead of getting on with his work, he had started dwelling on his last conversation with Granger.

"Where's Mac when you need him?" Draco stood up, and walked to this bathroom to splash some water on his face. He looked up and caught his reflection in the mirror. "Bloody hell."

It was all Granger's fault. "She just had to go there," he muttered under his breath, walking back to his room and pulling out a clean shirt from his cupboard. The mention of duties and plans, coupled with his father's jokes about bringing home a Muggle-born. Shit. It was all too much. As far as Draco was concerned, he had no plans. He was happy to go with the flow. What was it about everyone around him suddenly expecting outcomes?

He needed a second opinion.

St Mungo's was a pain to get into and a pain to leave. Draco avoided the place like a Hippogriff – they had instilled a permanent fear in him that seemed to transcend his logical sensibilities. He rubbed his arm at the thought. One thing he could count on was that it was a mad rush trying to navigate around the place just to avoid being stopped in the corridor and questioned about being there. Someone always knew someone, or saw someone who knew someone else currently in St Mungo's, and so on and so forth.

"Mr Malfoy!" Ah, there it was. Draco reluctantly turned around. His eyebrow rose slightly.

"Mr Proctor," he greeted. "What brings you here?"

"My son has been admitted into the hex removal ward."

Draco paused. He only had one son. "Oh? I'm sorry to hear. If you don't mind me asking, what happened to Mac?"

He watched the Director of Procurements lean back on his heels, his hand coming out of his pocket. "You know how it is; one minute life's perfect and then when it doesn't go your way you do whatever you can to hold onto it." He waved his hand casually. "Anyway... one can be a little over zealous when it comes to matters of the heart... but Mackenzie will be alright..." he trailed. He pursed his lips in thought before giving Draco a small smile.

"Well, is there anything I can do?"

"Perhaps when he is recovered he can return to what he should be focusing on – working for you, that is?"

Draco nodded. "I look forward to it." If experience was anything to go by, he knew exactly why Mac was in St Mungo's. "Let me know if you need anything in the meantime." He put his hand out and shook the Director's hand.

"Very well, Mr Malfoy. Thank you."

Draco turned and hurried to his destination before anyone else noticed him. He knocked on the open door once but didn't bother waiting for an acknowledgment. He had to remove himself from the corridors.

"Draco?"

"Don't act so surprised." He shut the door.

Blaise smirked. "Thought you hated coming here."

"I do." He scanned his mate's office as he stepped in for the first time, walking around, picking up anything remotely of interest and inspecting it to distract himself.

"Do you have to touch everything?"

"Not everything." He grinned and stood in front of Blaise's desk. "Great to see you, too."

Blaise rolled his eyes. Draco moved to sit, but paused as his eyes fell on a photo on the desk. He picked it up, tweaking his brow and sending a questioning look to his friend.

"Padma is my fiancée. I'm allowed to have a photo of the woman I'm about to marry on my desk. It's perfectly normal."

Draco scrunched his nose. "My mother's in love with you, too. Maybe I should bring you a photo of her for your collection of admirers."

"Give me that!" Blaise grabbed the frame from Draco and placed it down gently.

Draco watched in distaste as Padma's photo-self blew Blaise a kiss. "It's perfectly lovely." He sat down.

"Sarcasm aside, I'm sure you just didn't come to the one place you avoid – even when your mother was a patient here – to annoy me."

"Spare me the inquisition. Just give me a minute." Draco leant back, coursing his fingers through his hair. He still felt awful. "Got any hangover potions in this place?"

Blaise sent him a knowing look and opened his drawer. He picked out a vial and slid it across the table to his friend. "Pepper up, only. But it'll do the job."

Draco pulled the cap off and skulled it like his life depended on it. It was instantly soothing. "Thanks." He inhaled. "I definitely needed that."

Blaise gave him an expectant look.

"Granger came to my office yesterday. Lucius was there."

"And?"

The fact that he had to spell it out annoyed him. "Lucius? Granger? Lucius knowing about Granger; Granger acting like a crazy banshee. I actually think we had a fight over it." He hardly realised he had edged forward on his seat in the process of stating the obvious.

"Over your father?"

Draco shot him a glare. Blaise was really being dense. He didn't want to say it. "Do you see where I'm going with this?" he asked impatiently.

"So your father knows you're shagging Granger." He shrugged his shoulders. "Big deal."

"Exactly. Except that it is; they're all making it a big deal. Lucius has been shit-stirring since he found out, and Granger, well...she's in the shits." He exhaled.

"Okay, so you have a lot of shit going on. I'm impressed you came all this way to express yourself so poorly."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You know this isn't easy for me."

Blaise chuckled. "I can tell."

"Sod off."

"Look, it's simple. Hermione's got under your skin, more than you want to admit. Lucius always gets under your skin."

Draco stood up and started pacing. Everything was just getting out of hand. "I just spent the last week with Lucius discussing my options with the companies. One whole week trying to assure him I'm handling things well so that he's convinced he can plan his bloody retirement. Then, Granger shows up and all Lucius can talk about is Granger and her bloody great legs. To top it off, Granger suddenly blurts out she wants more than a good time. From me? What the fuck? This is the woman who can't decide if she wants to fuck me or have me at arm's length, suddenly wanting more."

"You need to speak to Hermione."

He stopped pacing. And say what, exactly? "Granger has decided to act like every other woman – fun for a while – and suddenly wants to know where it's going. You know I don't go there."

"Maybe that's your problem, Draco. You're treating her like every other woman. She's definitely not interested in being showered with gifts, weekends away, and a photo op with the Daily Prophet's most wanted." Blaise always had a way with words.

"Yes, the whole bloody wizarding population knows how different and perfect she is." He shook his head in frustration, thinking about how much perfect Granger riled him. If she was out of her comfort zone for a second, she would just revert to her work or shut him off. "Bloody control freak," he muttered.

"Seriously, Draco. You need to talk to Hermione. If you two can't communicate what you really want, you will keep playing games and the sex will fizzle out. You're both strong personalities and if you don't want anything further, tell her. I'm sure Parker is willing to oblige."

Draco growled and turned away. There were definitely no problems with the sex. Except that they hadn't had any for nearly two weeks. But it wasn't the point. It was just that he wanted it on his terms. He clenched his fists. "How did you know Padma was it?" he asked suddenly.

"I didn't." He shrugged. "I was just willing to find out. The sex was too damn good to give up."

Draco smirked. "It's not that easy with Granger."

"So you've thought about it?"

"No..." He sighed and sat down, rubbing the back of his neck with this hand. "I don't want her -" He trailed off. It was slithering into the forefront of his consciousness and he didn't want to acknowledge it. He shut his eyes, pushing back, demanding himself not to see what was there. "I don't want her..." He was slipping. "...to get hurt," he said finally.

Silence enveloped them. Blaise knew exactly where this was going. "Ah, the inevitable heir."

"Don't remind me."


	26. Blind ambition

**Disclaimer: same as previous chapters.  
**

**A/N: Record time update! Thanks for reading and special thanks to those who reviewed. :p**

* * *

"Daria can you remind me to drop by the Business Licenses department before I head home?" Hermione asked, slightly flushed as she pulled on her robes hurriedly. She was off to yet another networking meeting in preparation for the big launch that was fast approaching.

"Sure. Is it something I can help with?"

Hermione shook her head. Her promise to Sebastian to set him up with a contact for his article was nagging on her mind. She had been so consumed by everything else he had forgotten, that is until she found a little note she had written to herself as a reminder amongst the mess on her desk. "Have you heard from Percy about the Minister's speech?"

"I received a memo from him this morning requesting a draft," Daria offered.

Hermione visibly tensed. "A _draft_?" she asked.

Her secretary let out a light laugh, smiling. "I'm _kidding_, Hermione."

"Daria!" Hermione exhaled, laughing nervously.

"Well, you've been so edgy these last few days. I couldn't help myself." Daria shrugged. It was true. She was losing momentum thanks to her overactive mind that, ironically, was now functioning completely out of character. Never mind her dedicated work ethic, Hermione did not pride herself on the discreet moments in her office when she would replay her undignified blow up in his office, or the frustrating relay of his words that kept her awake at night. Malfoy had not given anything away and she had let her guard down completely.

"Percy is working on the final draft as we speak. He was waiting on some information from Draco Malfoy's office. He'll send over a copy. I'll have it on your desk as soon as it comes through."

And then there was _that._ Malfoy had managed to respond to every little detail she had thrown at him at his office in a matter of days. Not only was it unusually proactive of him, not a single Owl had been addressed to her directly. Apparently, he had even put forward generous donations to the Minister's office for the silent auction. Only Percy knew the details. Rather than feeling relieved, she wanted to cry. That Pepper Up potion in her bathroom cupboard would have done wonders today. Hermione straightened her robes and picked up her briefing notes.

"I just need this launch to be perfect," she said.

"When do you even deliver anything less, Hermione? Besides, you have me," Daria reassured.

"Thanks, Daria. Don't know what I'd do without you."

"Just promise me you will take a few days off after the launch is over," Daria replied, her tone insistent. She gave Hermione a warning stare that it was non negotiable.

Hermione nodded before rushing out. She hardly walked these days.

OOO

"Lavender!" she called out. Hermione quickened her pace, weaving her way through the end of day crowd. "Lavender!" Her voice echoed through the atrium, turning a few heads, including her target. She slowed down as she caught Lavender's surprised gaze.

"Hermione? Hi. Are you heading home?"

She shook her head, trying to catch her breath. "Not yet. Still have a few loose ends to tie up. I've actually just come from your office; I wanted to give you this." Hermione handed Lavender the invitation.

"Oh! Thanks."

Hermione noticed her frown in confusion. "I know I could have just left it on your desk, but I- I also wanted to ask – if it's not too much trouble – a small favour, and you can say _no,_ of course."

It was obvious she was not used to asking favours from people. Malfoy made her tread even more carefully. She sounded ridiculous and Lavender was just looking at her strangely. She was just going to come out and say it. "Sebastian Parker from the Prophet is looking into a few licensing grants issued by the Ministry and I was wondering if I can give him your details?"

"Gosh, Hermione, I thought you were about to ask me to double date, or something." She laughed. Hermione paled slightly as an image of her and Malfoy on a double date with Lavendar and Sebastian invaded her mind. "But sure, no problem. Is he cute?" she asked mischievously.

Hermione relaxed, wondering if she would consider Sebastian 'cute'. He was certainly a little _too_ forward and confident for that description. "Well, I suppose he's attractive," she admitted. She couldn't deny the fact that he was a bit of a charmer.

"Oooh, Hermione, your face says it all." Lavender's eyes lit up with amusement.

Hermione was slightly shocked. Between Daria and Lavender's comments, the effortless ability to mask her reactions was obviously crumbling. She ignored it. "Great! Thanks, Lavender. I'll Owl him to get in touch," she said.

Lavender nodded. "You know, we should hit Blue Diamond again soon. You seemed to enjoy it last time."

The memory of their last night there brought on a wave of nostalgia that left little room for a light hearted response. It felt like a lifetime ago. "Maybe once this launch is over and I have a handle on things. It's pretty crazy at the moment." She wanted to add that she was a bit crazy at the moment – Lavender simply did not need to know the details.

"Think about it. We can even make it an after-party venue. Merlin knows you'll need to unwind after all the official hoo-ha that goes on in this place."

"We'll see," she replied politely. "Thanks again, Lavender." She watched her colleague step into the flames before walking back to her office, lost in a reverie of sorts.

OOO

"Hermione, I'm off for the day, but you have a visitor," Daria interrupted.

"At this time? It's after five-thirty." Hermione frowned. "Who is it? And what are you still doing here?" she added in realisation. The last thing she wanted was Daria to burn out.

"Mr Malfoy." Daria raised an eyebrow. "Does he even _know_ about this launch?"

" 'Course he does," Hermione replied, sending Daria a quizzical glance. "He's the other half of the project," she reminded.

"I'm talking about the _other_ Mr Malfoy," she whispered, moving closer.

Hermione's eyes nearly bulged out of her sockets. "Lucius?" she mouthed in disbelief.

Daria nodded. "I'm off then," she announced, realising the door was open. She smiled apologetically and Hermione glared at her for not sending him off. Seems like Daria had her limits, after all.

She gave herself a moment to breath as she listened to Daria wish Lucius 'a good evening' before deciding to step out from her office. She was greeted with the back of Lucius Malfoy as he stood facing the notice board of important inter-office memos that Daria kept pinned. The ponytail of his hair was striking against the austere black of his robes; a reminder of the infamous family trait.

"Hello, Mr Malfoy," she greeted with a controlled breath.

"I see Muggle Relations has grown somewhat in size and ventures. Very interesting," he said thoughtfully. He turned to face her. "Evening, Miss Granger. I hope my impromptu visit is not too inconvenient."

She was busy trying to process the fact that he was even here to even notice his indirect apology. "What can I do for you, Mr Malfoy."

"We received our invitation." He paused. "Very tasteful," he informed, walking toward her. He stood a few feet away, his eyes rather pleasant and friendly for her liking. "I just wanted to have a little chat. Mind if we use your office?"

'I do mind actually,' she wanted to say. "No, not at all." She turned and assumed he would follow.

He did.

Hermione didn't know whether to sit or stand. She waited for Lucius to make the first move. His cane hit the ground as he walked toward her desk laden with piles of parchment, folios, ink bottles and feathers, Muggle pens, and not to mention, numerous books that had been retrieved from her shelves. In fact, her office floor was lately overrun with the stuff, too. "I find that a clean desk –" He made a quick glance around the room " – well – office, really, makes for a clearer mind."

"I've petitioned for a bigger office," she supplied thinly.

He chuckled. "My best wishes for your success." He took a seat, finally, choosing to occupy one of the chairs reserved for guests at her desk. "No need to be formal, Miss Granger. It's after working hours; feel free to sit next to me."

She squared her shoulders defiantly, and reluctantly moved to sit on the other chair next to him.

"I met with the Minister today," he offered, appraising her reaction closely.

She remained silent, trying to ignore the alarm bells going off in her head. He was here to put a stop to the whole thing. It made her wary.

"He was all compliments when you came up in conversation," he continued smoothly, a slight smirk that mirrored his son's flickered across his features.

She nodded, accepting the observation as a lead up to the crux of his visit.

"It had me thinking. What would Hermione Granger be doing if she weren't committing herself to public service in _Muggle Relations?"_

Her mouth opened slightly, uncertainty washing over her. She narrowed her eyes.

"Don't look so puzzled, Miss Granger. You are clearly more than suitably qualified for your job. It's your unflagging commitment to the cause I'm most interested in. Draco is obviously smitten with your prowess and I'm rather refreshed by his boldness, but his obligations go beyond his career."

Hermione paled at his mention of Draco. She clasped her hands. "Mr Malfoy, I don't think I – "

He lifted a hand to stop her. "Miss Granger, let me finish," he said finitely, despite the civil tone of his voice.

"Draco – all his inadequacies aside – is a very astute young man. I've raised him to be aware of his surroundings, read people with precision, present with a certain regard for his ancestry. All this is important, Miss Granger, in order to maintain an image and, in part, set him up to commit to serving the family name."

She cringed. "I think the foundations of the Malfoy name are well established, Mr Malfoy," she replied curtly. She was no in the mood for a lesson in old wizarding family values. The direction of the conversation was hindering her ability to think clearly let alone allow her to link its relevance.

"Indeed," Lucius agreed. "But the Malfoy name is not just a legacy. Draco will need to make it his own."

"Perhaps you need to take this up with your son?" she questioned icily.

She nearly missed the twitch of his lips as looked at her with curiosity before speaking."Draco is lacking direction at times…yes. But he knows where his priorities lie. He tries his best to challenge things, I admit. However, this is not really about Draco, is it? You, Miss Granger, on the other hand, have the freedom, one might say, to commit to whatever you may choose. And you no doubt have chosen to do so in the area of Muggle relations at this point in your life." He looked at her expectantly.

How was she supposed to respond? "Mr Malfoy, I don't dispute my passion for Muggle relations, although I am unclear as to why you need to make such an observation, and – and if this is a conversation about my blood status, I think it best we end it," she said quickly. "I consider it a mere triviality that has no bearing on my life or my choices." She stood up, feeling her face flush with anger.

Lucius looked up at her calmly. He hadn't flinched a muscle at her outburst. She looked away, unable to stand his silent appraisal. Hermione was caught between whether to treat this as subterfuge for extracting an admission about her and Malfoy, or some sort of twisted attempt at an open discussion of her character. The latter seemed implausible – at least by her expectations given present company.

"What I'm asking, Miss Granger, is if you have accounted for creating a life that lies beyond your work? Does success for you include committing yourself to shared obligations that come with marriage?"

Hermione's mouth dropped. She shut it quickly and pursed her lips as her mind reeled at the ridiculous questions he had just put to her. "I'm trying to understanding why you've even come here to ask me that," Hermione replied delicately. Her throat was closing up. She suddenly felt suffocated and walked around to her side of the desk in a need to set some boundaries. Lucius Malfoy had seen her on one single occasion in the same room with his son and now he was jumping to questions of commitment? "I think, Mr Malfoy, that- that I'm entitled to some explanation behind your visit."

"I have my reasons for coming here to clarify things for myself. It would do you well to supply me with a response." His voice had dropped to a warning tone.

She cleared her throat. "I don't need to answer to anyone about what considerations I have given to how I choose to live my life."

"Ah, yes, I imagine your parents raised you with the doctrine that your life is yours to make it what you want. But despite your heritage and drive for professional success, you are a woman, Miss Granger. I think it is fair to say that the majority of women see marriage in their lives, you included. But, I ask, are you the kind of woman who would make a suitable wife for my son? Would _you_ be satisfied with a life that requires you to commit to a man with a family legacy that calls for the highest level of altruism from you, first and foremost?"

She was beyond flummoxed by the direction this conversation was proceeding. How was it even plausible that Lucius Malfoy was thinking about this? "That is really something for your son to discern whether I, or _anyone_ else, for that matter, would be a suitable wife."

"You would do Draco a great disservice if you have not given consideration to this, Miss Granger."

"With all due respect, I have no reason to - your son and I do not have the kind of relationship that would warrant it." There she said it, despite her raised voice hinting at her emotional state.

"Are you telling me that you are not interested in my son beyond office hour frivolity?"

She blanched. What a way to put it. "No, I'm not saying that."

He smirked.

She sighed in frustration. "Mr Malfoy, while I'm not sure what grounds you have for giving this your attention, what gives you the idea your son is even interested in me to that degree? I hardly think I even know Draco well enough to know what I, or he, could possibly want!"

"Perhaps not." He dismissed, standing up. "Draco is one of the most eligible men in wizarding Britain and will have no trouble with finding a wife when the time comes. You are a challenge to him Miss Granger and that tells me enough to know that I must approach this with seriousness. However, coming here today, I see this has been quite a waste of your time and mine. Whilst you are no doubt an intelligent young woman, ambitious and driven, you are unmoving on your expectations for yourself beyond what you know."

She gave him a hard stare. "I don't appreciate you coming here to insult me in this way."

"I mean no disrespect to you, Miss Granger. This is purely in the interests of my family. Let me put it to you simply. It is apparent to me that you are someone who considers compromise of any kind a burden, so I need not be worried in the long term."

Hermione could feel herself losing control, her heart rate accelerating as it thumped against her chest, her blood rushing to her head. "In that case we have nothing more to discuss and I ask you to please leave."

He nodded once and gracefully rose from the chair, letting his fingers slide over the snakehead of his cane as it moved with him at this side. "I apologise for taking up your time. I look forward to attending the launch. I expect it will be impeccable."

Hermione clenched the edge of her desk as she watched him walk out. She wasn't just angry at Lucius for his absurd rationalisation for coming to her office and insulting her in that way, she was angry at herself. Hermione collapsed into her chair, burying her face in her hands.

Something must have occurred for Lucius Malfoy to be worried enough to broach the subject of her suitability for his son and it made no sense given Malfoy was completely avoiding her. Never mind the embarrassment that Lucius had clued on that she and Draco were _involved,_ it was his judgment of her that left her with a sudden feeling of emptiness.

Lucius Malfoy had indirectly called her narrow minded after she had warned him to steer clear of blood status. How was she even supposed to begin to digest the fact that he thought Draco was wasting his time because it was obvious to him that her life choices did not include taking on old family values? How arrogant of him!

Despite his piercing comments, he had hit on something she had failed to acknowledge about herself. That amongst her commitment to educating and serving the public, Hermione had not considered her own personal leap beyond what was comfortable to her, and he was right. While she expected more from Draco, she had never given thought to what it would mean for her to be with him - _really_ be with him. Lucius was right. It was beyond her scope of ambition.

It suddenly stung.

It hurt more than Hermione wanted to admit. She inhaled deeply through her mouth as she tried to fight back the pool of tears.

Draco Malfoy was the embodiment of her prejudices and he knew that. That's why he had been holding back. Lucius simply confirmed it.

OOO

Hermione arrived home late to find the lights on in her apartment. She could hear the faint running of water come from her bathroom and instantly froze. An intruder was the last thing she needed to face with after today's ordeal. Taking her wand out, holding it tight, Hermione moved toward her bedroom. She turned the corner and stuck her head in her room. An overnight bag was thrown on the floor with its contents pouring out around it. She recognised one of the t-shirts and exhaled, walking into the room and toward the bathroom.

The intruder looked up at her through the reflection of the mirror, a toothbrush in his mouth.

She smiled. "Hi, Harry."

He winked at her and turned around, pulling the toothbrush out. "Hermione!" he mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Was wondering when I'd see you." She walked in. He turned and spat the foam from his mouth and switched off the tap.

"I couldn't get leave till today. Hope my timing isn't too bad." He pulled her into a hug and squeezed. She didn't mind that he was half naked. It was the comfort of his return that had her smiling and squeezing back, enjoying his familiar warmth and smell.

"Couldn't have been more perfect." She pulled back. "I can see they've been working you hard." His torso had never looked so toned, and his skin glowed.

"South American lifestyle." He shrugged. "Keeps me busy."

Hermione laughed. "I bet it does. Grimmald Place still being leased out?"

He nodded. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all." They had a lot of catching up to do.

* * *

A/N: Gotta love Lucius. Can you tell what inspired this chapter? hehe


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